The Bells Rang Louder
by OzQueene
Summary: In the seven years they've been together, the relationship between the Planeteers has grown stronger and closer. As they explore new connections and attractions, the people on the outside struggle to understand. Partner to "Through the Dark". ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes:** So, after writing _Give Up the Fight, It Don't Come Easy_ and _Shadows Will Pass_, I wanted to write something exploring the closeness between the Planeteers, particularly after having been together for several years. I also wanted to write something with the main relationship being Kwame/Gi, so I have continued this after my short little multi-chapter _Through the Dark_. You don't need to read that first if you don't want to (though it's very short), you just need to know that there is an established relationship between Gi and Kwame here.

Wheeler/Linka may feature as well.

I really wanted to explore the possibility of the Planeteers growing close together, and people on the outside failing to understand the special relationship between them. I think that after seven years together (this is going to be set sometime after the last episode, though tbh I hate season six so much I'll probably ignore it completely), the Planeteers would form a group that would be very difficult to understand from the outside. Their job would be so difficult to understand, and they rely on one another so much in such bizarre situations, I think it'd be impossible to explain to anyone what their job meant and what _they_ meant to one another.

The title is taken from a quote I found a while ago, and I love it.

This is a work in progress, but you should know that I am not against writing explicit adult scenes, including sex and violence. I'll try to add warnings ahead if each chapter contains anything particularly bad, but please know that some content may be confrontational or triggering, and I am going to assume that anyone reading on from this point is old enough to read adult content.

* * *

_Love is supposed to start with bells ringing and go downhill from there. But it was the opposite for me. There's an intense connection between us and, as we stayed together, the bells rang louder._

* * *

Gi cocked her head and listened carefully, keeping her breath soft and quiet. The night was still and hot and the path in front of her was deserted.

She could feel sweat prickling on her skin as she moved forward again, tiptoeing in and out of the shadows. The moon overhead was full, casting silvery light across everything. Gi realised how easily she could be spotted if someone came along.

She had no excuses for being there so late at night. If someone came along and questioned her she'd have nothing but stammers and wide eyes. Not a very convincing argument for innocence.

She turned the door handle carefully, keeping as quiet as possible and glancing nervously over her shoulder, making sure nobody was following her. To be discovered now would give everything away.

She closed the door quietly behind her and breathed a soft sigh of relief. Inside. Safe.

Kwame lifted his head and looked at her in amusement. "Hello."

She grinned and skipped across the floor to his bed, sliding in next to him with a sigh. "Hi."

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. "You look so timid whenever you sneak in here..."

"I'm scared of being caught," she said, kissing him gently. "Sneaking into your room so late..." She raised her eyebrow. "People will _know_ what we're doing."

He grinned. "Does it matter?"

"Don't you think it's a nice secret?" She rolled on top of him and kissed him again, smiling when his arm curled around her waist and held her to him.

"A very nice secret," he confirmed quietly, running his fingers over her skin, lifting her t-shirt. She let him pull it over her head so she was naked from the hips up.

She paused for a moment, one hand on his chest and the other against his jaw, her thumb resting on his lower lip. "Do you want to tell them?" she asked after a moment. "Are you sick of hiding?"

He opened his mouth slightly to act a kiss against her thumb. "Are we hiding?" he asked curiously. "Or are we merely being secretive?"

She rose to the challenge swiftly, fierce truth in her voice. "I'll tell them right now if you want me to."

He laughed and rolled over on top of her, and she realised she'd been had. She started to giggle.

"Shh," Kwame chuckled. "You could wake the dead."

"Wheeler is the closest and he sleeps through Gaia's thunderous announcements," Gi argued, curling her arms around him and nuzzling against his neck. "I won't wake anyone."

"Are you trying to challenge me?" he breathed, kissing her again.

She smiled and rocked her hips upwards against him, her hands running down over his broad shoulders, bare and smooth in the warm night. "I'll be quiet," she whispered in his ear.

He murmured a sound of general disbelief against her shoulder, pressing his mouth against her skin and moving his tongue over the delicate curve of her throat, his hands moving in slow strokes against her body.

"Kwame?" she whispered, tracing her fingers over his back.

"Hm?" He propped himself up on his elbows above her and stroked her hair out of her face.

She smiled at him. "I really don't care if they find out, you know. I'm not ashamed of being with you. I don't want you to think I'm hiding all of this because I'm embarrassed. I'm not."

He traced his index finger over the rounded tip of her nose. "I know, Gi."

She smiled up at him and lifted her head to meet him in a kiss, the thrill of his body against hers resulting in hot shivers that ran the length of her and left her writhing and helpless beneath him.

* * *

Wheeler sat slumped over his cereal, still bleary-eyed and tousle-haired. It was almost eight o'clock, which was definitely a sleep in when it came to being a Planeteer, but to Wheeler it felt like sunrise.

Kwame wandered in and smiled at him. "No sleep, Wheeler?"

"I still beat you to breakfast," Wheeler muttered.

Kwame chuckled and reached into the refrigerator for juice. "If you say so."

"You're usually up a lot earlier than this," Wheeler answered, raising his bowl of cereal to his mouth to drain the remainder of the milk.

"Charming, Yankee," Linka said, walking into the kitchen and spotting him. "You eat like a pig."

"The milk at the bottom is the best bit," Wheeler argued, getting up to rinse his dishes. "It's full of the sugar and flavour of all the cereal I've already eaten."

Linka sighed and set about making herself some toast. Wheeler watched her out of the corner of his eye. She was, annoyingly, a morning person, and never failed to remind him by showing up to breakfast after a long run on the beach, her skin glowing with fresh air and slight sweat.

"Has anybody seen Gi?" Linka asked, waiting for her toast to eject from the toaster. "She said she would come running with me this morning."

"Nope," Wheeler yawned.

Kwame took a careful sip of juice.

Linka stepped around Wheeler to fetch the butter from the fridge. The Planeteers were well-practiced at their morning routine – when they had one. Often, the routine was disturbed by eco-emergencies. When they had the comfort of their home kitchen, breakfast was a relaxed, chatty and friendly affair. They never failed to take it for granted, either. Breakfast during Planeteer missions often involved cold toast, handfuls of various grains and dried fruits, and hurried gulps of lukewarm juice in the geo-cruiser.

Being able to take one's time and prepare the day in a leisurely manner was a nice luxury they all wished they could enjoy often.

Wheeler polished an apple on his shirt. "What are we up to today?" he asked.

"We should give the geo-cruiser a tune-up," Kwame suggested. "We have put it through some difficult paces lately and it is time to make sure there is no wear and tear."

"M'kay," Wheeler answered around a mouthful of apple. He watched Linka butter her toast. "How 'bout you, babe?"

She glanced at him and reached for the honey. "I need to call Mishka," she muttered. "I am very late with phone calls. I do not think he will be very happy with me." She checked her watch and gave a sigh. "I should do it now."

She left Wheeler and Kwame to their breakfasting and exited the kitchen to walk towards The Crystal Chamber. The morning sun was already warm, and the grass and flowers bordering the path smelled sweet and heady, still covered in early dew. She could see Gaia further on through the clambering flowers, opening pretty lilies with the light touch of a finger.

Linka chewed her toast as she waited for the Crystal Vision screens to connect through to Mishka's computer. It was a relatively new way of communicating with him, and seeing her face seemed to placate him when she was late with returning his calls – which seemed to be more and more often, lately. She suspected Gaia had sensed her guilt and had bumped up the technology available to Mishka.

She smiled at him when he answered, dusting her hands of her toast crumbs. "Hello," she said, greeting him brightly.

"Just a moment," he apologised, a greeting not forthcoming. "I will be back in a second."

She wrinkled her brow in confusion as he disappeared. She was left staring at his empty chair. She checked her watch anxiously. Seeing Gaia so relaxed in the garden before had indicated to Linka the full day would be free, and she was eager to get out and enjoy the sun.

She waited impatiently for Mishka to come back, until she became aware of raised voices in the background. She tilted her head, frowning. She could hear her grandmother, angry about something, raising her voice to Mishka.

He looked frustrated when he returned.

"Is everything okay?" she asked anxiously.

"Fine," he answered shortly. He gave her a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "How is life on Hope Island? It looks like a nice day."

She turned and looked over her shoulder, through the open windows towards the bay. The sun glittered prettily on the water. "It is a nice day," she answered distractedly. She turned back to her brother. "Mishka, are you and Grandma arguing about something?"

He rubbed his jaw. "No," he answered vaguely. "She has misplaced something. She thinks I shifted it." He hesitated for a moment and then shook his head, lowering his voice slightly. "Her memory is getting a lot worse, Linka."

Linka felt a pang of concern. "What do you mean?"

"She forgets things... She is often angry and frustrated. She can become quite aggressive..." He fidgeted, looking guilty as he made this admission to her. "It can be difficult," he said reddening slightly.

Linka tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She could feel her heart thudding loudly. "Is she unwell?" she asked.

Mishka shook his head. "She is eating, and she seems fit and able," he said. "It is just her mind, Linka. She is getting older. She is alone most of the day when I go to work..."

Warning bells started going off in Linka's head as Mishka continued.

"If you could just come and visit for a couple of weeks..."

"Mishka, I can't," she said desperately. "I don't get regular holidays like everyone else. I have one or two days off every few weeks. It's hardly enough time to fly to you, let alone –"

"Why can't you _ask_ for time off?" he asked irritably. "Why do we have to fit into your schedule like any other Planeteer mission?"

Linka almost flinched. "That's not what it is," she answered angrily.

"That's what it feels like," Mishka hissed furiously, keeping his voice low. "I love Grandma, Linka, but I'm at my wit's end, here. I hear the same stories again and again, and many of them have to do with you never being home. I hear stories of our parents living their whole lives in this town and what an admirable thing it was, and I can hear resentment when she talks of you because you're not here. I hate it." He sat back in his chair and his eyes were glittering furiously. "I need you to come home," he said. "I need a break."

Linka looked down at her hands, hating herself for what she was about to propose. "What about Uncle Dimitri?" she asked quietly. "He is her son; he could come and –"

"Forget it," Mishka snapped, sounding disgusted. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. After a moment he gave a sigh and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Tell me," he said, "what has been keeping you so busy." He gave her a small smile, indicating he meant nothing but interest.

She gave him a small smile in return, and the argument was pushed aside and they each pretended to forget it. "We came back from China yesterday. We've been rebuilding villages after that earthquake. We put a start in on a recycling plant, too."

Mishka smiled, and Linka gave a small sigh of relief.

The rest of the conversation passed without incident, but the guilt and worry at the back of her mind weighed heavily upon her, and she knew that at some point she'd be forced to face it properly.

* * *

"Ma-Ti, call your monkey off!" Gi cried, attempting to wrestle a wrench out of Suchi's tiny hands.

Ma-Ti chuckled and held his hand out for the wrench. Suchi ran to him and deposited it obediently into Ma-Ti's outstretched palm before running up to sit on his shoulder, chattering quietly. The Heart Planeteer leaned down to hand the wrench back to Gi.

She was sitting on top of the eco-sub, the control panel open in front of her.

"Anything serious?" Ma-Ti asked, stretching out on top of the dock and resting his chin in his hand. Suchi clung to him and peered down at Gi curiously.

"Nope," Gi answered cheerfully. "Just a couple of things needing a little tighten up. Nothing too dramatic." She threw the tools back in the toolbox and slammed the lid of the panel down. "It's starting to warm up, huh?"

Ma-Ti glanced up at the clear blue sky. "I feel very lazy today," he sighed. "Something tells me we should be taking advantage of the day to catch up on things we've neglected, but all I want to do is stretch out in the sun."

Gi grinned up at him. "Me too." She held her hand up and he helped her onto the dock.

Sometimes Gi wondered if Ma-Ti was wise to the relationship between her and Kwame. If he was, he gave no indication. She wasn't entirely sure how far his power extended towards things like that – but even so, Ma-Ti was intuitive and she wasn't sure how much longer things could be kept secretive. The Planeteers lived in each other's pockets a lot of the time. Keeping secrets was difficult.

She glanced across the grassy clearing between the forest and The Crystal Chamber. She could see Kwame and Wheeler moving about beneath the geo-cruiser. Their laughter and voices floated over on the light breeze.

"Linka looks like something is on her mind," Ma-Ti said, sounding concerned.

Gi turned her attention to him and saw him looking further down the beach. Linka was standing in the shallows with her hands in her pockets, staring out to sea.

Gi gave Ma-Ti a worried glance and they separated quietly – Ma-Ti heading towards the geo-cruiser and Gi heading for Linka.

"Are you okay?" she asked, drawing closer.

Linka smiled at her. "_Da,_ I am okay." Her voice sounded rather dull and flat, and Gi didn't believe for a moment that everything was all right.

She sank into the sand, leaving her legs stretched out so the thin waves running in could sweep up against her bare feet. She patted the sand beside her and Linka sat down, mimicking her position and propping herself up on her elbows, staring down at her feet.

"Grandma is not very well," she said after a moment.

Gi turned to her in alarm. "Do you need to go home? Go, Linka. We'll manage."

Linka shook her head and bit her lip. "It is not that sort of unwell," she admitted. She dug her toes into the wet sand. "Mishka says she is growing forgetful... She is getting aggressive and confused."

"Oh," Gi said softly. She trailed her fingers through the sand, not sure what to say.

Linka sighed and shrugged. "I am not sure what to do," she said. "I do not think I can help much by going home. But I know it must be hard on Mishka..." She bit her bottom lip again.

Gi took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "If you want to go home for a few days, go, okay? Family is important."

Linka gave her a smile. "I know." She frowned down at her feet. "Perhaps I should," she said slowly. "Just for a few days. Just to give Mishka a break."

"Do you want someone to go with you?" Gi asked.

Linka shook her head. "I will be okay. I will not be long. Three or four days."

"If you need longer –"

"Just say so," Linka finished for her, giving her a smile. "I know, Gi."

Gi got to her feet and pulled Linka up. "Want to take a swim before you leave?"

Linka looked longingly at the blue waves rolling in, but sighed and shook her head. "I should go. Is Gaia still behind the gardens?"

"I don't know," Gi answered. "I'll go and tell the guys you're going to need the geo-cruiser for a while."

Linka smiled at her and they parted.

Gi watched her go worriedly. Being a Planeteer clashed with normal life, a lot of the time, and it was hard for people on the outside of their circle to understand that. She thought back, guiltily, to the last conversation she'd had with her parents, and made up her mind to call them that evening.

* * *

Wheeler drummed his fingers on the wing of the geo-cruiser. "Done?"

"I think so," Kwame agreed, wiping his hands on a rag. "That took longer than I thought it would."

"Guess we've been a bit rough on her lately," Wheeler said, patting the yellow side of the cruiser fondly. "It's been a while since we took some proper time to tune everything up."

Gi skipped into the clearing, poking Kwame in the middle of his back and leaning up against the geo-cruiser's wing beside Wheeler. "All done?"

"Yup," Wheeler answered. "How's the eco-sub?"

Gi shrugged. "Fine. But Linka wants to take the geo-cruiser to Russia for a few days."

"Is everything all right?" Kwame asked in concern.

Gi shrugged. "I think she just misses Mishka and her grandma."

Wheeler frowned, not really buying it. He gave a shrug. "Well, whatever. Doesn't look like we're going to be too busy over the next couple of days." He scratched the back of his neck. "I should probably go to New York on Friday," he muttered after a moment.

"Why?" Gi asked, craning her head up at him.

"It's Mom's birthday. I forgot about it completely last year. I should probably try to make it up to her this year."

"You forgot your mother's birthday?" Gi asked in disbelief.

"Can't all be perfect," Wheeler said, scruffing her hair. He grinned and wandered away down the path, listening to the others continue chatting without him.

He found Linka just behind The Crystal Chamber, talking to Gaia. He hovered for a moment, not wanting to interrupt, but Linka spotted him.

"Is there something you want, Yankee?"

He grinned at her. "You're taking off for a couple of days?"

"I suppose so," Linka sighed. "Not for a vacation, however."

"No?"

Linka tightened her ponytail slightly and shook her head, but didn't offer any further information.

Wheeler paused for a moment. "Is your grandma okay?"

Linka glanced at Gaia, and she smiled and moved away, leaving the Wind and Fire Planeteer alone.

"I am not sure," Linka admitted after a moment. "I think she is just showing her age. Mishka says she is starting to fail a little..."

"Oh." Wheeler fidgeted for a moment. "Well, if you want someone to go with you –"

"_Nyet,_ I will be all right," she said, smiling at him.

"Okay. Give her my best, huh?"

Linka smiled again. "I will." She stood for a moment and touched her ponytail again, tucking a loose strand into the elastic. "I should go and shower," she said after a moment. "Then I will go."

"Won't you get there in the middle of the night?" Wheeler asked, checking his watch.

She shrugged. "It won't matter."

"Okay." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well – fly safe."

She smiled. "I will."

He nodded, and they parted, though it felt awkward and unnatural. The Planeteers so rarely said goodbye to one another they weren't sure how to do so when the time came to separate.

Linka wandered slowly to her hut to take a shower and pack a bag, feeling odd about what was in front of her. It wasn't just the worry she had for her grandmother, or the guilt she felt for not visiting as often as she probably could have – it was something else.

_It feels strange, saying goodbye to the Planeteers,_ she thought suddenly. _Even if it is just for a few days, it feels unnatural to become an individual and separate from them._

She shrugged her shoulders in an effort to push the feeling back. It couldn't be helped, this time. It _had_ been a long time since she'd been home. It had been a long time since _any_ of the Planeteers had gone home, and only so much time could pass before the people who had been left behind started becoming affected by their absence.


	2. Chapter 2

Linka exhaled a deep breath as the geo-cruiser quietened and darkened around her. Rain smattered against the windows, blurring the vision of the dark, bent little house in front of her. She gazed at it for a while, wondering if it had always been so small, before she picked up her bag and jumped from the cruiser, walking quietly across the rain-slickened dirt to the front door.

She was digging around in her pocket for the key when the door opened quietly. She jumped, and looked up into her brother's face.

"Mishka," she breathed, greeting him with a warm hug. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

He squeezed her gently and kissed the top of her head. "No, I was awake." He stepped aside and she squeezed past him into the house. She could smell cooked tomatoes and the faint smell of bread left over from their evening meal.

"Is there any food?" she whispered, smiling at him. "It's time for my lunch."

He chuckled and they went through into the kitchen. She sat at the table and watched him put some leftover tomato soup into a saucepan on the stove, heating it through gently.

"I'm sorry about our argument," Linka said after a moment, looking down at her hands.

Mishka looked at her in surprise. "It wasn't much of an argument, Linka. But I'm sorry too." He kissed the top of her head again and she smiled at him as he sat opposite her.

"Is it very bad?" she asked after a moment. Her throat felt dry.

"She has good days and bad days," Mishka answered. "It just feels as though there have been more bad days, lately."

She nodded and drew a pattern against the bare tabletop with her finger.

"She repeats herself a lot," Mishka continued quietly. "She forgets she has told me things. Or she believes she has told me something and then gets angry when I don't remember it." He paused for a moment. "I am worried, when I leave her alone each day," he admitted. "I don't like leaving her by herself. She puts the stove on sometimes and forgets about it."

Linka swallowed carefully, feeling tearful. Her grandmother wasn't supposed to be resorted to something like this. She was the woman who had taught her about birds, holding their little wings open to count their feathers, making up little phrases to match their singing. She was the woman who had taught Linka how to tie her shoelaces, how to make khalva, how to knot an apron behind her back. She had been strength and comfort and intelligence for all the years Linka had grown up, and now she was fading away into old age, memories and skills unravelling and falling apart, broken and unfixable.

Mishka patted Linka's hand gently and got up to take her soup off the stove, pouring it into a bowl and setting it in front of her with a thick slice of buttered bread.

She smiled at him and began to eat, though she didn't feel very hungry any more.

"She'll be pleased to see you," Mishka said after a few minutes of silence. "She mentions you a lot."

Guilt shot through Linka. "I'm sorry I don't come back more often," she said. "It's just so far, and I don't get much time –"

"I didn't mean to make you feel guilty, earlier," he interrupted, looking sheepish. "I'm sorry. When Grandma has a bad day, it tends to mean a bad day for me, too."

She squeezed his hand and turned her attention back to her soup. "I know it must be hard for you," she said after a moment. "There's nobody else to help, is there?"

"Not really," he answered. "She's adamant about not needing help, anyway. She wouldn't let anyone else come in to cook or clean for her."

"You have to do it, instead," Linka said, giving him a small smile.

He smiled back and shrugged.

Linka scraped her spoon against the bottom of her bowl. "Does Uncle Dimitri know?" she asked timidly, looking up at Mishka.

He watched her for a moment. "He rings every week," he said. "I think he can tell things have changed. But I can't ask him to come back, Linka."

She shifted uncomfortably. "You asked me to come back."

Mishka sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "You're younger than Uncle Dimitri," he said. "To be honest, Linka... All that Grandma will talk about when he calls is Boris. It upsets him."

Linka felt a quiver in her stomach. She lowered her eyes back to her soup and forced herself to eat the last spoonful. "Doesn't she know it upsets him?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know." Mishka laced his fingers together and then separated them again to toy with the salt shaker. "I think she wants Uncle Dimitri to come home, and she – she mentions Boris because she hopes he'll come back to his family here. She thinks if they had stayed here, Boris would..." He shifted uncomfortably. "...That he would be all right," he continued. "I think she wants Uncle Dimitri to feel guilty so he will come home."

"Grandma would not do something like that," Linka retorted immediately. "That's horrible."

Mishka just blinked tiredly and gave a shrug. "I can't ask him to come back here, Linka. He doesn't want to come home, and Grandma has two young, fit and healthy grandchildren to look after her." He raised his eyes to hers again and Linka blinked and looked away, hating herself for immediately thinking how unfair it all was.

They sat in relative silence as Linka finished her bread, listening to the rain on the roof and only chatting now and then when certain thoughts occurred. Unpleasantness was pushed aside again.

"You should go to bed," Linka said, checking her watch and getting up to rinse her dishes. "You need to be at work in a few hours."

Mishka yawned and nodded, getting to his feet and pushing his chair in. He leaned over and kissed Linka's cheek. "Thank you for coming home," he said.

She smiled, and he disappeared into his bedroom, closing the door quietly. She heard his bed creak as he sat down.

She stood for a moment, listening to the rain and the slight creaking of the house as the wind pushed against it. Sounds that had been so familiar to her once sounded so strange now. She felt her way along the short corridor into her old bedroom and curled up on her bed, feeling very awake and feeling very anxious about what the morning would bring.

* * *

"Have you seen Wheeler?"

Gi propped her chin up on her hand and squinted up at Ma-Ti. She was reading a book in the shade by the beach, her hair still damp from swimming in the ocean. "Nope."

Ma-Ti sighed and headed for the common room. Sure enough, Wheeler was stretched out in front of the TV, a half-eaten bowl of popcorn on his lap. As Ma-Ti watched, the Fire Planeteer plucked a popped kernel from the bowl and handed it distractedly to Suchi, who was sitting beside him. The monkey nibbled at it, turning it around in his hands happily.

"What are you doing inside on a day like this?" Ma-Ti asked, sitting down beside Wheeler with a smile.

"Ask him," Wheeler answered, pointing his thumb at Suchi. "He wanted popcorn."

Ma-Ti chuckled and Suchi moved over into his lap, chattering quietly. Ma-Ti ran a hand gently over his fur.

"I dunno, man," Wheeler sighed, stretching tiredly. "I know I should be out enjoying the nice weather, but watching a movie sort of appealed to me."

Ma-Ti didn't bother pushing the gentle teasing any further. They had more than enough time outdoors in their regular duties as Planeteers.

"I have a favour to ask you," Ma-Ti said after a moment, watching the screen.

"Hm?" Wheeler asked, digging around in the popcorn again.

"I was wondering if I could drop you off in Brooklyn on Friday and keep the eco-copter for a while. I'd like to visit Shaman."

Wheeler looked at him in surprise. "Is everything okay?"

Ma-Ti shrugged. "I think so. I was just thinking, and I realised it has been quite some time since I saw him last. With Linka away, and you going to New York, I thought I would take advantage of the few days we seem to be taking off from things. Would you mind if I took the eco-copter?"

"No, of course not." Wheeler shifted slightly on the couch. He hadn't been planning on staying in Brooklyn very long, and without the eco-copter he'd be forced to stay until Ma-Ti came to pick him up... But Ma-Ti's request wasn't an unreasonable one and Wheeler felt no need to say no to it.

Ma-Ti ran his hand down Suchi's back again, and the monkey reached for the bowl of popcorn, snatching a greedy handful.

"Manners, dude," Wheeler said, frowning down at him.

Ma-Ti chuckled and Suchi swung himself up onto the Heart Planeteer's shoulder. "We'll leave you to it," Ma-Ti said, getting to his feet.

Wheeler watched him go. He had been feeling awkward about his trip to Brooklyn anyway, but now he would be there with no chance of escape until Ma-Ti came back for him...

He sighed and shrugged his weight further down on the sofa, fixing his eyes on the television and forcing himself to forget about it.

* * *

"Taste this." Gi held up a spoonful of sauce and waited for Kwame to take it into his mouth.

He hesitated at the last second. "You have not slipped something dangerous in there?"

She cackled. "No."

He grinned and opened his mouth obediently.

She smiled when he nodded his approval, and held her hand up. He high-fived her and reached up for the spaghetti strainer that was sitting on the shelf above her head.

"I think we're going to be alone together this weekend," she said after a moment, watching him drain the pasta. Steam rose up into the air and bathed his face.

"We are?"

"Ma-Ti is going back to his village for a couple of days. It's just going to be you and me. Are you scared?"

"Terrified," Kwame said, grinning at her.

She grinned back and gave the sauce another stir.

"You do not want to go and see your parents?" Kwame asked.

She cringed suddenly. "I meant to call them tonight." She checked her watch. "I'll do it later." She looked up at him with a slight frown. "Don't you want to have a weekend alone with me?"

He glanced towards the kitchen door. "I do, very much." He kissed her forehead gently. "I just thought you might want to visit your family. It seems everyone else is."

"Do you want to visit_ your_ family?" she asked after a moment. She paused with her wooden spoon held above the bubbling pasta sauce. Kwame never spoke of his family and she had the sudden feeling she'd just put her foot in her mouth.

"I have nobody to visit," Kwame said, shrugging and giving the pasta another shake.

She bit her lip guiltily. "Sorry, Kwame. You never talk about your parents and I guess I –"

"It is easy to assume we all know everything about each other, sometimes," he whispered, kissing her forehead again.

She looked up at him. "Do you ever want to talk about it?"

He tucked a strand of her silky hair behind her ear. "Later," he said softly, giving her a small smile. "You are burning your sauce."

"Shit." She shoved the saucepan off the hotplate and stirred it quickly.

He laughed and tipped the pasta into a dish, carrying it through to the kitchen table.

Gi threw the window open and hollered in the direction of the common room. "Food!"

She could practically hear Wheeler's sprinting footsteps as she pulled the window closed again and followed Kwame to the table.

* * *

Gi kicked Wheeler under the table and grinned at him. "Your turn to do the washing up."

He groaned. "Can't you cover for me just this once?"

"Just this once?" She raised her eyebrow. "I stopped falling for that one five years ago."

He grinned and shrugged. "Nice work on the pasta sauce."

"Flattery won't help," she sang, stacking plates in front of him.

Wheeler sighed and picked them up, heading for the sink. "What are you guys up to this weekend?"

"I think we are still trying to decide," Kwame said, giving Gi a quick smile.

She checked her watch anxiously. "I really should ring my parents. But if I let it slip we have this weekend free, they're going to want me to visit."

"Is that a big deal?" Wheeler asked, filling the sink with water.

Gi leaned against the counter. "No." She gazed at the floor for a moment and sighed. "Okay, here I go." She gave them a small wave and headed towards The Crystal Chamber.

Wheeler watched her go. "Is she all right?"

"I think so," Kwame answered. He frowned after her, feeling a little worried. "She gets on with her parents... right?"

"I dunno," Wheeler answered, shrugging. "I assume so."

"Has anybody heard from Linka?" Ma-Ti asked, grabbing a dishcloth.

"Nope." Wheeler scrubbed at a plate with a frown, looking slightly distracted.

Kwame shook his head. "I hope her grandmother is all right."

Ma-Ti glanced at Wheeler for a moment before he shrugged. "I might call her and see how things are going. She was very worried when she left here earlier."

Kwame and Wheeler watched him go.

"Is everything all right between you and Linka?" Kwame asked, picking up Ma-Ti's abandoned dishcloth.

"Yeah," Wheeler said airily. "Why?"

Kwame smiled and shrugged. "You are very quiet, lately."

Wheeler sighed and stacked another plate haphazardly on the side of the sink, watching the suds run across it before Kwame picked it up to dry it. "Nah, man, I'm okay. A bit nervous about goin' home, that's all. I got on okay with Dad at the end of the last visit but I don't think it was something that will last."

"You never know," Kwame said comfortingly. "Is his health any better?"

"Don't think so," Wheeler muttered.

Kwame gave his friend a quiet pat on the back and turned his attention back to drying dishes, letting the subject drop.

* * *

Gi had chosen to use the telephone rather than the Crystal Vision screens. Ma-Ti could see her out on the porch, the phone held to her ear. She was gazing out at the ocean with an annoyed look on her face, apparently not liking whatever it was she was listening to.

Ma-Ti dialled Linka and waited patiently. He smiled when she answered. "Hello."

"Ma-Ti!" She beamed back at him. "Is everything all right? Do you need me for something?"

"No, nothing like that. I just thought I should let you know that we are taking some time off, ourselves," Ma-Ti said, referring to himself and the other Planeteers. "Wheeler is going back to Brooklyn for his mother's birthday and I am going to go and visit Shaman."

Linka smiled at him. "Say hello to Shaman for me."

"I will." He smiled back and rubbed at a mosquito bite on his arm. "How is your grandmother?"

Linka's facial expression became one of mild annoyance. "I think Mishka is over-reacting," she said. "Grandma does not seem any different to me. We have just had breakfast and she seems just like her old self."

"That's good," Ma-Ti offered. "I'm sure she's glad to see you."

Linka nodded. "_Da,_ she is. I just wish Mishka had not worried me so much."

Ma-Ti smiled and shrugged. "Never mind. Spend a few days with her and we will see you again Sunday."

Linka smiled back and nodded. "It really has been too long since my last visit," she sighed. "We have been so busy lately."

"I know," Ma-Ti agreed. "I am starting to feel guilty about leaving Shaman for such long periods of time. He is getting older, too, and I worry about him."

"I am sure he is okay," Linka said. She glanced over her shoulder and then back to Ma-Ti, looking apologetic. "I should go," she said. "I told Grandma I would feed the birds for her today and if I do not do it soon, she will beat me to it."

Ma-Ti chuckled and gave her a wave. "Give her and Mishka our love."

"_Da,_ I will. Fly safely, Ma-Ti. I will see you all on Sunday."

He nodded and they smiled at one another before he disconnected.

He felt odd. They very rarely took time off, and it was even more unusual for them to split up to do so. One or two of them would occasionally part from the group to do something together, but for the next couple of days, Ma-Ti would be alone, without the Planeteers, and he could sense it felt odd to the others as well.

He glanced at Gi, who was still listening rather inattentively to what appeared to be a very one-sided conversation. She spotted him and rolled her eyes.

He smiled and headed back towards the kitchen.

* * *

Kwame emerged from the bathroom after his shower to find Gi sitting up in his bed, twirling one of his bracelets around her wrist.

"Hello," he said, smiling at her. "No midnight visit?"

"Linka's away," Gi explained, watching the bracelet catch the gleam from Kwame's bedside lamp. "I only had to sneak past Wheeler, and he's absorbed in some sort of video game."

"Ah." He sat down on the edge of the bed and watched her for a moment. "Are you all right?"

Gi sighed and leaned back against his pillows. "I had a bit of a fight with my mother," she muttered.

"What about?" Kwame shifted to sit beside her, curling an arm around her shoulders.

She leaned her head against him tiredly. "The usual stuff."

"What _is_ the usual stuff?" He kissed the top of her head and tightened his arm around her slightly, worried about her.

"She just misses me a lot, I think," Gi said uncomfortably, drawing her knees up and burrowing into his side. "She's always talking about what my old friends are doing and what I'm missing out on back home..." She sighed and shook her head. "I don't know."

Kwame ran his hand up and down her arm and they sat in silence for a few moments.

"You never talk about your parents," Gi said after a while.

"What do you want to know?" Kwame shifted slightly, wrapping his other arm around her to hug her properly. He felt her smile against his shoulder, and then her lips pressed against his skin in a soft kiss.

"Why don't you ever talk about them? Is it too upsetting for you?"

"Not really," he answered. "When you think about it, none of us talk about our parents much."

Gi frowned, realising he was right.

He continued before she spoke again. "My mother died when I was twelve. She fell ill. A lot of people in my village did." He shifted uncomfortably. "I am not entirely sure what it was..." He trailed off.

Gi didn't push it. She kissed him again, just above his heart.

"I never knew my father. I have no idea if he is alive, or dead, or if he has other children."

Gi traced her thumb across a scar on his ribs. "Do you ever think about looking for him?"

"No. I have no real interest in finding him."

Gi took his hand and closed her eyes. "You got on with your mother though?"

He nodded and kissed the top of her head. "We were very close."

"What happened after she died? Did you live with someone else?"

"No. I stayed in the village. I was looked after if I took on my share of the work."

Gi squeezed his hand and smothered a yawn.

"Tired?"

She nodded.

"Hard work, doing nothing all day," he whispered, kissing her temple.

She gave a soft giggle. "I swam a really long way today..."

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her down into his bed drawing the sheets over the both of them and reaching to turn out his lamp. Gi rolled over and gave a quiet sigh of comfort.

"Gi..."

"Hm?"

"If you want to visit your parents this weekend, I do not mind. I know it is a chance for us to be together, but if it will help settle things with your mother, maybe you should go."

She chewed her lip for a moment before she pressed her back against his chest. "Come with me?"

He kissed the back of her neck and smiled. "You want me to?"

"Mmhm." She rolled over and smiled at him, tracing her fingers gently over his face. "No secrets, either."

He smiled. "No?"

"None," she breathed, taking his hand and clasping it to her chest. "Come with me. No secrets."

He brushed his thumb over her cheek. "I would really like that."

She smiled at him again and leaned forward to kiss him gently.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes:** This chapter contains an explicit sex scene.

* * *

"Thanks for the lift, Ma-Ti." Wheeler clapped the Heart Planeteer on the shoulder and grabbed his bag. "Say hey to Shaman for me."

"I will." Ma-Ti gave him an encouraging smile. Wheeler had been fidgeting for almost the entire journey and Ma-Ti knew he was nervous about staying with his parents. "Call me if you want me to pick you up, Wheeler. I won't mind."

Wheeler grinned and shrugged. "Nah, I'll be okay. I'll see you on Sunday."

Ma-Ti nodded and Wheeler jumped out of the eco-copter, ducking beneath the slowly-spinning rotors. He gave Ma-Ti a wave as the eco-copter rose away again, its thudding beat gradually fading away to be lost in the rest of the noise from the city.

The Fire Planeteer sighed and pulled the rooftop door open. It was never locked.

He made his way down to the third floor, his feet growing heavier with each step. He paused outside his parents' apartment door. He could hear the television inside, muffled but loud, and his heart sank. His mother was probably still at work, but his father was obviously home.

He knocked with his knuckles and leaned against the doorjamb, waiting. There were no sounds from inside to indicate someone was coming to answer the door. He sighed and dug around in his pocket for the key, before remembering it was still hooked to the nail beside his bedroom door on Hope Island with a bit of ragged string.

He cursed softly and hammered on the door again, using his fist this time. "Ma!" he called. "Open up!"

_Please be home. Why didn't I try to convince Ma-Ti to get here later? Why'd I have to show up so early? It'll just be me and Dad until Ma gets home from work..._

He pressed his forehead against the door and knocked again. _Someone's home. The TV's on. Someone's definitely home. Does he know it's me? Does he think it's someone trying to sell something?_

He cleared his throat. "Dad! You home?" He knocked again.

And again.

The TV blared on, and the door remained closed. Locked.

"Dad!" He hammered the door with his fist. "Open the door! I know you're home, I can hear the television!"

He glanced up the corridor, movement catching his eye. One of the neighbours had been peering out at him and he'd caught their door closing as they realised what was going on.

_The Wheeler family, at it again, disturbing the peace. _

He cursed again, louder, and kicked the door. His nerves had rapidly destroyed his patience – which was never in good supply anyway. "Dad! Open the fucking door!" He pressed his ear against the wood and listened. He could hear some sort of mid-afternoon movie playing. A western. He could hear John Wayne's unmistakable voice. "_Fill your hand, you son of a bitch."_

He dropped his bag and turned to the door across the hall, knocking loudly but less violently than he had against his parents' door. He knew Eileen Prescott had her eye to the peephole and was already watching him. She probably had the phone pressed to her ear and was letting Valerie Simpson upstairs know that the no-good Wheeler kid was home again.

She swung the door open warily, looking at him through half-closed eyes.

"Hey, Mrs Prescott, do you still have Ma's spare key?" he asked hopefully.

"Stay here," was her response. She shut the door again and he sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

_It's Ma's birthday. I gotta be here for her birthday. She'll be pleased. Beside herself. It'll be worth it. _

The door in front of him swung open again. Mrs Prescott handed him a brass key. "Unlock the door and give it back. Your mother won't want you to keep it. You'll only lose it."

Wheeler obediently unlocked the door to his parents' apartment and swung it open before he handed the key back to Mrs Prescott, trying to keep a polite smile on his face. "Thanks."

She narrowed her gaze at him again and slammed the door. He could still feel her watching him through the peephole as he moved inside and closed the door behind him.

He cast his eyes around the apartment before he stepped forward to turn the TV off. "Hello?" He cocked his head. No sounds.

He sighed and walked through to his old bedroom, dropping his bag heavily to the floor and sinking onto his bed. His parents weren't home. His father was probably down at the bar, having left the TV on because he was too drunk to remember to turn it off before he left. His mother wouldn't be home for another few hours.

Apparently, nothing had changed. He thought back to the last time he had seen his father. The hospital had scared him straight for a couple of weeks, at least. And he'd begrudgingly reached out to make amends with Wheeler, praising him for turning his old friends away from gang life and towards something cleaner and safer and more worthwhile.

He'd praised him for what Wheeler remembered as maybe the first time ever. Such small words, but they had sounded so sweet and heavy and wonderful. Wheeler sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, stretching his long frame out on the narrow bed.

_Should have known it'd go back to this. Should have known it wouldn't last. Why'd I get my hopes up? Why'd I keep daydreaming about coming back to find him sober and healthy and changed? I told everyone else there's no way it would happen. Why didn't I tell myself?_

He listened to the sounds of the other apartments around him. He could hear someone further down the corridor yelling, his voice barely restricted by the thin walls and carpeting. In the apartment above, a child was wailing and throwing a tantrum.

He rolled off his bed and entered the kitchen, hoping to find something to eat – or at least find something to distract him.

There was a birthday card on the windowsill. He reached for it, flipping it open curiously, hoping his father's name would be scrawled at the bottom of it.

It wasn't from his father, but he grinned when he saw the scribbled message inside. _Happy birthday, Mrs Wheeler! You still paint a pretty picture. Love, Trish._

He chuckled to himself as he put the card back, his mood somewhat improved. He wondered where Trish was, and cursed himself for not calling her before he'd left Hope Island to tell her he would be around.

He drummed his fingers on the counter before a card by the telephone caught his eye. He gazed down at it in surprise before he tucked it into his pocket and left the apartment, pulling the door closed behind him and not caring about being locked out again.

* * *

Linka was bored. She felt guilty about it, but she couldn't help it. There was so little to do. She was used to being run ragged with various chores and distractions, and she was being met with very little in her small hometown.

Her grandmother was reading in a chair by the window, looking out across the yard now and then at the rain that continued to fall.

Linka went and sat by her with a novel of her own, but she wasn't in the mood for reading. She glanced at her grandmother, trying to see the failings Mishka had mentioned. She couldn't.

"How are you feeling, Grandma?" Linka asked after a moment. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Her grandmother smiled and put her book down in her lap. "No, I'm all right for now, my dear. But you can make tea, if you want some."

Linka shook her head and turned her attention back to her book, though her eyes stayed on the same page. She listened to the rain on the roof and the windows and she slowly grew angrier and angrier with Mishka for using their grandmother's health to draw her back. Linka knew it wasn't easy on him. He worked hard, and it could hardly be ideal for him, having to live with his grandmother and care for her as she grew older, but to make up stories just to alleviate some of the pressure...

She blew a short sigh and flipped the page of her novel without reading a single word.

"Is something the matter?"

"No, Grandma." Linka smiled and then turned back to the window. Darkness was starting to fall, but Mishka wouldn't be home for another hour or so.

Linka could sense another argument coming, and this one was certainly going to be bigger than the last one.

* * *

Ma-Ti strolled across the clearing towards the small scattering of huts. He could smell wood smoke and damp grass. The familiarity of it all lifted his mood even further, and he couldn't help but smile to himself.

Suchi curled his tail gently around Ma-Ti's neck, one small fist grasping his hair as he inspected his surroundings.

"Don't be nervous," Ma-Ti said, reaching up to tickle him under the chin. "You know where you are."

He headed for Shaman's hut. The village was quiet, and Ma-Ti didn't expect to catch up with many of the others until it neared dark. Shaman, however, was home.

"Surprise!" Ma-Ti called.

Shaman chuckled before he turned around. "Not such a surprise when you land your helicopter nearby, Ma-Ti." He turned around and his eyes twinkled. "It is good to see you."

Ma-Ti grinned at him and hugged him tightly. Suchi transferred over to Shaman's shoulder, chattering softly.

"I am glad you have come," Shaman said, motioning to one of the stools just outside his front door. They sat and looked out across the village.

"Is something wrong?" Ma-Ti asked worriedly.

Shaman was silent for a moment. "There has been some trouble."

"What trouble?" Ma-Ti asked. "I haven't heard anything."

Shaman gave a small smile. "I am rather glad you haven't heard, Ma-Ti." He gave a soft sigh. "We are fighting to keep more developers out of our forest."

"_More_?" Ma-Ti asked incredulously. "Have we not made our stance clear before? Why do they insist upon coming back time and time again? Why can they not just leave us in peace?" He gave a heavy sigh and slumped back against the sun-warmed wall of Shaman's hut. "How many times do we have to fight for such a basic right?"

Shaman patted his arm gently and Suchi reached for him, once again swapping shoulders to sit closer to the Heart Planeteer, sensing Ma-Ti's sudden discomfort and wanting to be close to him.

"It would not be so bad if it was just talk," Shaman said. "We have talked successfully before and I believe that the new manager of this company merely wants to broach the subject of guided tours through our part of the forest. I have warned him it is not a good idea and that we would appreciate the tours staying away. But Ropni has taken things further."

"Ropni? What has he done?" Ma-Ti's brow wrinkled. He and Ropni had grown up together, though they had become less close since Ma-Ti lost his parents. He didn't believe this was anything malicious on the other boy's part – just that Ropni had not known how to deal with seeing Ma-Ti in such a deep state of grief, and he had withdrawn, uncomfortable with the new emotions present in their friendship. Ma-Ti had turned to Shaman and the practice of medicine instead, before Gaia had summoned him as the Heart Planeteer.

Guiltily, Ma-Ti realised he had only seen Ropni a handful of times since leaving the village. They were strangers, now.

"There have been reports of vandalism and sabotage against the tour company," Shaman said heavily. "Ropni has not exactly denied that he is responsible."

"No," Ma-Ti said, furrowing his brow. "Impossible. Ropni knows better than that."

Shaman gave him a small smile. "I hope you are right, Ma-Ti. Perhaps you can talk to him. Things have changed in your absence and I am afraid it has not been for the best."

He patted Ma-Ti's arm again and turned his gaze back to the village, silent and watchful.

Ma-Ti felt his heart sink. Hate, fear and crime seemed to be stretching thin, cruel fingers in around everything, and Ma-Ti despaired that the day had finally come where he couldn't avoid it – not even there, in his own village.

* * *

"My parents won't be home for hours, yet," Gi sighed, sliding her key into the lock.

"They sound like hard-working people," Kwame offered tentatively.

"Yeah," Gi muttered, pushing the door closed behind them.

"Gi..." Kwame dropped his bag on the floor and took her hand.

She sighed and shook her head, smiling up at him. "I know. I'll cheer up." She rested her forehead against his chest and closed her eyes. "I tend to get a little over-wrought after speaking with my mother. It's hard to be enough for her, sometimes."

Kwame hugged her gently and kissed the top of her head.

"Come on," she murmured, tugging at his hand. "No secrets this weekend, but you've still got the spare bedroom. Unless you want to face the wrath of my father." She grinned at him and he shook his head and smiled back.

"The spare bedroom will be fine."

She laughed and led him upstairs. The house was, somehow, small and spacious at the same time. The furniture was minimal and simplistic. The surfaces were free of decoration or ornaments, and the walls were clean and painted with soft pastels.

"There are no photographs," Kwame noted.

"My parents aren't really into the whole interior decorating thing," Gi explained, "photographs included. There are some albums somewhere, but you're instructed not to go looking for them."

He laughed and squeezed her hand. "No promises."

She smiled back at him and led him into the spare bedroom. "My room is across the hall."

Kwame dropped his bag gently to the floor and immediately crossed to Gi's bedroom. "Is it wallpapered with posters of the film stars you were in love with when you were fifteen?" he teased, swinging the door open.

"It used to be," she said, leaning against the doorframe and watching him run his fingers along the edge of her desk. "My mother redecorated around five minutes after my departure."

Kwame sank onto the edge of her bed and looked up at her. "It sounds as though the two of you do not get along very well."

"It's not that, really," Gi sighed, crossing the carpet and sinking onto the mattress beside him. "Just... All of _her_ friends have daughters going to university and getting married and having families, and she can't understand why I'm not happy to do that myself. Umma would be more impressed if I were more conventional."

"I am sure your mother is very proud of you," Kwame whispered, kissed her temple.

Gi smiled and stretched back on the bed, reaching her arms out to him. "Come here."

"For what, exactly?" he asked, raising his eyebrow at her.

She laughed and tugged him down so his body was settled against her, her legs curling around him. She sighed comfortably and gazed up at him. "Sometimes you're like two different people," she murmured. "Kwame the Planeteer, and Kwame. Kwame the leader and Kwame... mine." She smiled.

He frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

"No, it's nothing bad," she soothed, tracing the features of his face. "Maybe I just never noticed a lot of things about you, before."

"Like what?" he asked, smiling down at her.

"Like..." She drew a breath, thinking for a moment, and tugged his shirt, encouraging him to shift so she could pull it over his head. "You tell more jokes," she said. "Or maybe you always told jokes and I just never listened."

He chuckled and brushed the tip of his nose across her cheek. "I always told jokes," he said. "They have just always been terrible."

"Hm," she said, smiling up at him. She traced her fingers over his back. "I don't know. Lots of things. Sometimes I look at you, now, and I wonder why I never saw this." She motioned between them and he took her hand and kissed her fingers.

"It is not always a thunder bolt, Gi," he whispered.

"I'm kinda glad it wasn't," she admitted, reaching up to kiss him. "I like the way things between us have changed. I like that we were friends first. I like that we're friends now and I like that we have something more." She kissed him again, deeper.

He broke away gently and pressed kisses along the side of her neck. "Are you sure your parents are not likely to be home early? I would like to be able to look them in the eye, and if they walk in on us –"

She giggled and kissed him again, cutting him off. "They won't be home until dark. Trust me." She wriggled beneath him, manoeuvring out of her own t-shirt so she could feel his skin against hers.

"Trust you?" he asked. He grazed his teeth gently over her bare shoulder.

She sighed in satisfaction. "We could just go downstairs and watch television, if you'd rather..."

He chuckled and slipped his hand between their bodies to open the front of her jeans. "You take the blame if we get caught."

"Okay," she agreed, arching her back as his fingers brushed against her underwear.

"I was helpless to stop you," he added, clamping his teeth gently against her earlobe.

"That's exactly what I was going to say," she breathed.

"I tried to talk you out of it."

"Let's not go crazy with the excuses," she said, jolting as his fingers crept past cotton to touch the wet warmth of her body.

He laughed again, quietly, and she felt the light touch of his breath on her skin. She ran her hands over his back, relishing the broad expanse of him above her.

Kwame smiled against her skin and tracked his mouth lower across her chest, closing his eyes and following the delicate nerves of her body by touch alone.

He loved the way her body moved and twitched beneath him. He loved the way her breathing changed. He loved the way she bit her lip to keep soft whimpers back. He loved the way her lashes fluttered and locked together, long and dark against her porcelain skin. He loved every little bit of her, and while he couldn't be sure she had ever thought about being in love with _him_, he had every confidence that what they had was serious and intricate and something they both considered precious and real. It wasn't something that would end tomorrow, forgotten. It wasn't an experiment. It was everything.

Gi lifted her hips and he tugged her jeans away from her legs, dropping them to the carpet beside her bed. He grinned at the self-conscious look on her face.

"I'm always naked before you," she mumbled, her face flushing.

He hooked a finger under the strap of her bra. "Not naked."

"Near enough!" she blurted, giggling and shoving him slightly. He bent to kiss her.

"You are beautiful naked," he whispered, tracing long fingers down the curve of her waist.

Her cheeks grew pink and he pressed his mouth over hers again, softly, preventing any vocal protest she may have come up with. She unsnapped her bra at the front and let it fall open, breathing deeply as his hands moved over her.

She wasn't exactly used to this slow exploration. Aside from the first couple of times being with him, the rest of their time together had been snatched meetings in the middle of the night, with the fear of being discovered pressing in around them. Everything was always hushed and dark and rather restricted. This was different. They were alone, and Kwame had realised the full potential of the situation before she had, his movements achingly slow and precise.

She was torn between feeling nervous about his focus on her body, and giving in to the fiery pleasure that was starting to run through her. Now and then her body would twitch and jolt against his fingers or his mouth, and he would smile and remember what had caused each little tremble of pleasure, triggering it again and again.

When he moved to kiss her mouth, she wound her body around him, breathless and wanting. She let out a sigh into his ear when he moved slowly inside her, against her, with her.

She wanted to breathe every thought and secret to him – that sometimes he _was_ two different people, but it was never deceptive. That sometimes she found herself on the brink of telling everyone around her that she had been naked and tender with him. That sometimes she dreamt of him even when she was awake.

That she loved him; that she was _in_ love with him.

She didn't. She wrapped herself around him instead, finally abandoning all self-consciousness to revel in the slow movement of Kwame's body.


	4. Chapter 4

Linka gazed at the silvery drops of rain on the window in front of her as she stood at the sink, washing the dishes from their evening meal. Outside, it was pitch black, but the drops were caught in the light from the kitchen, and the entire window pane glittered with them.

She could hear her grandmother chuckling in the other room as Mishka finished telling her a story about something that had happened to him that day. He laughed too, and the sound sent anger rocketing through Linka.

He came in to help her, grabbing a dishtowel and smiling at her. "You're quiet."

"Am I?" she asked irritably.

He looked at her in alarm. "What's wrong?" He lowered his voice. "Did something happen today?"

She sloshed around in the sink angrily, pulling the plug. "No, Mishka, _nothing_ happened. Grandma was _fine._ Why did you have to worry me so much when there's nothing wrong? I was beside myself when you –"

"Linka," Mishka interrupted, setting the dishtowel aside carefully, "do you think I was lying?"

She chewed her lip and glanced towards the living room. "I don't know," she muttered. "Maybe."

His eyes widened for a moment. "How can you possibly accuse me of –"

"She's _fine,_" Linka hissed, pointing towards the living room and praying their grandmother had heard nothing. "I know it's been a long time since I was home, Mishka, but telling me Grandma is unwell so I rush home in a panic..." She trailed off and shook her head, pressing her lips together into a thin line.

Mishka looked angry and upset. He shook his head and leaned against the counter, a frown on his brow. "Linka," he said carefully, "I told you she has good days and bad days. Today was a good day. It was good for her to have someone home with her during the day; someone to talk to." He raised his eyes to hers and shrugged, looking sad. "She might be good tomorrow, too. She might be her old self tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. But a bad day will come back again..." He rubbed his hand across his brow. "Sometimes she forgets my name."

Linka stared at him. She could feel various emotions pulling at her, each one struggling to become prominent. Eventually, defensiveness won out, and she refused to believe that Mishka was right. She just shook her head, and his arm came around her shoulders and held her to him for a moment.

He kissed the top of her head. "I'd never lie to you," he whispered. "Come on."

She gave him a small smile, but deep down she still refused to believe her grandmother was anything but the way she had always been.

She smiled at her grandchildren as they returned to the living room and sat on the sofa opposite her.

"Your hair is getting longer, Linka," she said after a moment.

"I know," Linka said, giving a rueful smile. She pulled her ponytail over her shoulder and ran her fingers through it. "It needs cutting."

"You look like your mother, when you have long hair," her grandmother said fondly.

Linka blushed, feeling pleased. "I wish we had more photographs of her."

Her grandmother chuckled. "Just look in the mirror. You're the image of her."

Linka smiled and settled back into the couch. "Did you finish your book, Grandma?"

"Yes," her grandmother sighed. "But I have read it before. No surprises at the end."

Linka smiled again, but added that little portion of conversation to her growing pile of evidence against Mishka's worries.

* * *

Gi peered out into the corridor, listening carefully. Behind her, her bed was empty, though her pillows had been carefully arranged beneath the blankets, just in case someone poked their head into the room to check on her.

With her heart drumming in her ears, she crept forward and carefully opened the door to Kwame's room. Moonlight spilled into the room through the window, which was open to the night air. She grinned to herself and tiptoed forwards, heading for Kwame's still, slumbering figure in bed. She knelt beside him and watched him for a moment. He was on his stomach, both arms stretched up over his head, one resting on his pillow and the other disappearing beneath it. The sheets sat loose and soft, low on his back.

Gi traced her hand over his skin and stretched out beside him, doing her best not to wake him. She stared up at the ceiling, thinking back over the evening.

_At least I didn't fight with her,_ she thought after a moment. _Though it came close._

Gi's mother had spent most of the evening questioning her on her future plans, and whether or not university or marriage countered into them.

"You can't be a Planeteer forever," she had said sternly. "What comes next, Gi?"

Gi had glanced helplessly at Kwame, and he had smiled and shrugged, indicating that it was all right to put off the discussion of their relationship for now. Gi had felt relieved. Though she was sure her parents would approve of Kwame, she wasn't sure she could handle the intense questioning and scrutiny that was bound to follow – at least, not after the university discussions.

Kwame stirred beside her, his arm stretching out to meet her body. "Hm," he sighed. "Hi."

"Shh," she whispered, smiling and rolling over to kiss him. "Hi."

"What time is it?"

"It's the middle of the night. I couldn't sleep."

Kwame curled his arm around her and pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head. "Are you all right?"

She chewed on a fingernail. "Uh-huh."

Kwame ran his hand over her back. "They are both lovely people, Gi. They only want you to be happy."

"Appa's fine," Gi murmured. "He doesn't care what I do, so long as I'm busy and I'm happy. Umma wants me with a degree in either hand and a ring on my wedding finger."

Kwame chuckled and hugged her closer. "She loves you."

"I'm sorry we didn't tell them," Gi whispered. "We can do it tomorrow. I just couldn't face it, on top of everything else. They love you, but you have no idea how many questions this will spark. I need time to prepare."

He laughed quietly and buried his face against her neck. "Whenever you are ready," he breathed.

"You don't mind?"

"No."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, forcing him to abandon the last dregs of sleep. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her to his body, his hands moving behind her hips and over the swell of her backside.

"We'll tell them," she promised, breathing heavily. "I really want them to know. It just needs to be done at the right time."

"I know." He kissed her again and then fell back into his pillows. "If they catch you in here, there will never be a right time."

She smiled and snuggled into him, closing her eyes. "I just want to stay for a little while. I can't sleep without you beside me."

He kissed the top of her head and pulled the sheets over their bodies, listening to her breathing quieten and deepen as she relaxed against him.

* * *

Wheeler had planned to head straight to the address on the business card, but nerves and doubt wore him down before he'd even left his apartment building. Suddenly he didn't feel like going anywhere – especially to a place he could hardly believe existed.

He took the card out of his pocket again. _Patricia Gatto, Art Prints._

He bit his lip and leaned against the outside wall of his apartment building. The warm brick pressed against his t-shirt. He turned the card over in his fingers a few times, trying to decipher the joke. Trish had never mentioned anything as serious as a gallery, and he found it hard to believe she'd gathered the money to put one together. Besides, something as important as a gallery – she would have told him about it. He didn't want to go to the address only to find out it was something she had dreamed up and never achieved.

He shoved the card back into his pocket again and sighed, feeling rather deflated. He suddenly wished he hadn't locked himself out of the apartment again. Going back upstairs and asking Mrs Prescott for the key for the second time in one afternoon didn't seem like a good idea.

He sighed and heaved himself away from the wall, his feet treading a familiar, unwelcome path to his father's favourite bar. He wasn't sure what had caused him to suddenly think this was what he should be doing, but deep down he had a hope that he could somehow wrestle his father into sobriety by the time his mother came home. A sober husband on her birthday would be one of the better presents anyone could offer her.

Wheeler shouldered the door open, squinting into the dim, smoky bar. There were a few hunched figures inside, and a television showing greyhound racing, up above the dusty bottles of liquor on the shelves behind the bartender.

A fit of coughing drew Wheeler's attention to where he needed to be. His father sat at the end of the bar, a full glass of beer in front of him. Wheeler drew a shaky breath and walked over to him.

"Dad. You okay?"

Nicholas Wheeler squinted towards the tall young man standing next to him. "What's that?"

Wheeler bent down and stared into his face. "Jesus, you're yellow. I gotta take you home. Come on."

Nick chuckled and clapped his shoulder. "My boy! Hey, hey Pete. Come here." Nick waved at the bartender. "This is my boy."

Wheeler sighed and shrugged his father's hand off his shoulder. "Come on, Dad. Let's go home."

The bartender rubbed a rag over the polished bar. "You the Planeteer? He talks about you a lot."

Wheeler blinked. "He does?"

"Never ending." The mutter came from a dark corner and Wheeler didn't bother trying to figure out who had said it.

"Where you been?" Nick breathed, spittle forming on his lips. "You been gone a long time."

Wheeler felt uncomfortable. He had _hoped_ for a warm welcome from his father, but he hadn't ever really expected it, even if it was only lukewarm. It made him feel odd and out of place, like the universe had shifted somehow.

"I seen you on the television," Pete the bartender said, jabbing a finger at Wheeler. "Have a beer. On the house."

"I don't drink," Wheeler answered, shaking his head firmly. "Come on, Dad. Time to go home."

"Let me finish my beer."

Wheeler sighed and sat next to his father, taking in his sunken face and wasted muscles. His gut swelled out and stretched his shirt, but the rest of him seemed thin and gaunt and sickly. His skin was a rough, wrinkled, dirty cream colour. Wheeler watched him gulp at his beer, anger and hopelessness swirling around in his stomach.

"Have a beer with your old man," Nick said, clapping Wheeler between the shoulder blades. It was still a heavy strike, considering how wasted-away the man seemed.

"I don't drink, Dad. Are you ready? Time to go home." Wheeler stood up impatiently, though the level in his father's beer glass had barely changed.

"What do you mean you don't drink?" Nick asked scornfully. "Have a beer! It won't kill you."

Wheeler stared back at him in amazement. "It might," he answered slowly. "You looked in the mirror lately?"

Anger flashed across Nick's face. "I make my own choices."

"Good for you," Wheeler answered softly. He stared at the television until his father had finished his beer.

"What's the rush?" Nick asked, staggering from his chair. "I gotta piss; wait here."

Wheeler waited for him. Pete the bartender took his empty glass.

"Why do you serve him?" Wheeler asked angrily. "You know it's killing him, don't you?"

"The man can make his own choices," Pete answered defensively.

Nick weaved his way back from the bathroom. "Let's go," he said, making an effort to stand straight.

Wheeler sighed and led him out into the sunshine.

They'd taken four steps before Nick demanded they go back. An unlit cigarette hung from his mouth. "I forgot my lighter."

"I got it." Wheeler took the cigarette and used his Planeteer ring to light it. "Come on. We're goin' home."

Nick scowled, evidently not pleased about missing a chance to go back into the dark, smoky atmosphere of the bar.

"You okay?" Wheeler asked after a moment. "You can walk home, right?"

"I can walk home," Nick agreed, though he was breathing heavily by the time they reached the end of the block.

"You need to rest?"

Nick nodded and sank down onto a stoop. Wheeler sat beside him carefully.

"I thought you'd stopped," he said after a moment.

"I cut back," Nick answered defensively.

"It's killing you," Wheeler snapped. "Can't you see that?"

Nick flicked his cigarette butt into the street. "You think I'm stupid? I see it."

Wheeler ran his hands through his hair. "So stop it, Dad."

Nick coughed and gave a short, gravelly laugh. "You think it's easy, kid? You think I can just turn it off? I know it's killin' me. I know it's destroyed me. But I can't get through a day without it." He shook his head and leaned against the wall. "Don't you come back here and get all high and mighty on me."

Wheeler leaned his head against the wall. It was hard to be sympathetic towards someone when they did so little to help themselves – even if it was an addiction. He couldn't remember his father healthy. It seemed as though he'd had enough time and enough chances to straighten himself out, and he hadn't bothered.

He looked at his father and elbowed him sharply. "Don't go to sleep."

"I wasn't," Nick mumbled.

"Come on." Wheeler stooped to pick up the discarded cigarette butt and throw it in the trash before he helped his father up, pulling his arm around his shoulders and supporting his weight. "It's not far, Dad."

"I know that," Nick snapped. "Get off your damn high horse. Comin' home and takin' charge. You think you're better than me? You can travel the world and save all those people but don't you dare come back here and talk to me that way..."

Wheeler only half-listened as his father ranted on, helping him up the stairs of their building. Nick struggled to unlock the door, and Wheeler saw the shadow of Mrs Prescott moving about beneath her door on the opposite side of the corridor.

He sighed and helped his father inside. "Go to bed, Dad. Don't drink anything else today, okay? It's Ma's birthday."

Nick coughed and grumbled, slamming the bedroom door.

Wheeler sank onto the couch, listening to the bedsprings creak in the next room as his father settled himself on the bed.

He sighed and checked his watch. It was two o'clock in the morning in Linka's time zone, and not much better in Busan, where Gi and Kwame were staying. He didn't want to contact Ma-Ti in case the Heart Planeteer worried and felt he had to leave Shaman to pick Wheeler up early.

The Fire Planeteer took the card advertising Patricia Gatto's gallery out of his pocket and ran his thumb over it. Even without the other Planeteers, maybe he _did_ have someone to talk to.

* * *

"Ma-Ti!"

Ma-Ti quickly smothered his yawn and turned towards the door of Shaman's hut. Ropni had stepped inside with a smile.

Ma-Ti smiled back. "There you are! Back at last..."

Ropni laughed and embraced the Heart Planeteer. "The fish were difficult to catch, today. I thought they would keep me waiting until dark. It is good to see you. Are you here for long?"

"I go back the day after tomorrow," Ma-Ti answered, motioning for Ropni to sit down. "How are you?"

"Very well," Ropni answered immediately, smiling and stretching his legs out. "How are you?"

Ma-Ti smiled back but didn't answer so quickly. He looked down at his hands. "Shaman tells me there has been some trouble, lately."

Ropni gazed back at him for a moment and then blinked. "What trouble?"

"Something to do with a tourism company wishing to extend tour routes to our part of the forest."

Ropni scowled. "That is being taken care of. Shaman does not need to worry. Tell me about your Planeteer stories."

Ma-Ti breathed a quiet sigh and looked back at his friend. It seemed a lifetime ago since they had both run through the forest together as fearless adventurers. Ma-Ti suddenly wished those days had not ended so quickly. He had been forced to take notice of the troubles and consequences of adulthood long before he seemed ready, and he missed simplistic childhood. Ropni always seemed to remind him of those days.

"I would like to hear more about this tourism company," Ma-Ti answered. "What exactly are they proposing?"

"I told you, Ma-Ti, it has been taken care of," Ropni said impatiently. "They will give in, soon. They know we do not want them here."

"Sometimes that is not enough to stop them," Ma-Ti answered with a small smile. "Have they made threats?"

"No." Ropni looked irritated, but Ma-Ti pushed on.

"The talks have gone well, then?"

Ropni rubbed his arm. "What talks?"

"I assumed you have spoken with them," Ma-Ti answered, shrugging. "You and the other men, I mean. Do they seem understanding of our point of view? Have they agreed to stop?"

"Not yet," Ropni conceded, "but they will. Why all the questions, Ma-Ti?"

Ma-Ti looked carefully at his friend for a moment and then smiled. "No reason. I am just curious." He allowed Ropni to change the subject, but in his mind he turned over what Shaman had said earlier, and added it to Ropni's defensiveness and anger.

It all added up to something he didn't like at all.

* * *

Wheeler paused outside the door of the gallery and checked his watch. A closed sign hung on the inside of the door, but the lights inside were on. He tried the door and found it unlocked. He grinned and swung it open, stepping inside. A dull, electric buzz rang somewhere behind the desk at the back, indicating his entrance.

He heard Trish curse from one of the back rooms. "We're closed, sorry!" she cried. She emerged from the back with a thin paintbrush in her hand, coveralls rolled down to her hips and a thin white tank top hugging her chest. She stopped and stared.

"Closed for me?" Wheeler asked, pointing at the sign.

A slow smile spread across her face. "Well, well. Look who it is."

"Are you gonna hug me, or not?"

"Not," she said, looking down at herself. "I got paint on me."

"I've been covered in worse things."

She laughed and set the paintbrush down on the desk before she leapt at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist.

"Hi," she breathed, squeezing him.

"Hey." He squeezed her back and kissed her cheek. "Miss me?"

She buried her face in his neck, not letting go of him. "You promised to keep in touch."

Guilt shot through him. "I know. I'm sorry." He set her down on her feet and kissed her cheek again. "Gonna forgive me?"

"Not right away," she answered, punching his arm.

He laughed and followed her into the back room. "Nice gallery."

She beamed at him. "I tried to phone you, to tell you about it, but you were never there."

"Sorry," he said, feeling guilty again. "I work long hours."

"Yeah," she sighed, waving away his apology. "I won a grant."

"You did?" He beamed at her. "Good for you."

She laughed. "I had to spend it on art. So I opened this place. I'm going to host exhibitions with art done by homeless kids, as well as my own stuff. And some other local stuff done by my friends."

Wheeler wrapped his arms around her and kissed her shoulder. "You're pretty amazing."

"I know," she sighed, leaning back into him and gazing at the wet canvas in front of her. "I am."

He chuckled and hugged her.

She tipped her head back against his shoulder and looked up at him. "You back for your mom's birthday?"

"Uh-huh. I have to stop off and get her a box of chocolates or something before I go pick her up from work. You want to come by for dinner?"

"Don't you want to be alone with your family?" she asked teasingly.

He rolled his eyes and let her go, stepping away from her. "I've already seen Dad today."

"How is he?" Trish asked, pulling her coveralls up and wiping her hands on a rag. "I saw him yesterday. He looked pretty sick."

"He still looks pretty sick," Wheeler muttered. "I had to bring him home in the middle of the day."

Trish winced. "I'm sorry."

He nodded and ran his hand through his hair. "You'll come by, right? I think he'll be okay, but it'd be nice to have you there as a buffer."

She laughed and tossed the rag aside. "Your dad stopped behaving himself in front of me a long time ago. I'm practically part of the family now. He's not going to hold back just because I'm there."

"It'll still be easier for me," he murmured.

"Then I'll come," she answered. "Just let me get washed up. Your mom doesn't finish work for another hour yet. We'll make it."

He smiled at her and leaned against the wall. "Patricia Gatto," he sighed. "Gallery owner."

She grinned and shrugged. "I'm on my way up."

"Yeah," he said, taking her hand and squeezing it. "Guess you didn't need me, after all."

"I wouldn't say that," she answered, resting her head against his chest. "It still sucks, not having you here. I still miss you."

"I miss you too," he responded, kissing the top of her head.

"You never even think of me," she whispered. "When you leave, you forget me."

"That's not true!" he answered hotly.

She smiled up at him. "Yes it is. That's why you haven't been back in almost two years. That's why you never write me, or call me. You just forget."

"Trish..."

"It's okay," she answered, giving him a shaky smile. "If I got out of here, I'd want to forget it, too."

He leaned forward and kissed her gently. "I'll never forget you," he promised. "Please don't think I have. I just get busy. And I'm lousy at keeping in touch, no matter who it is or where they are."

She smiled at him and shrugged. "I gotta get cleaned up. Take a look around the gallery. I'll be down in a few minutes."

He gave her a small smile and watched her disappear up the stairs in the back room to the floor above. Her circumstances had changed, but she seemed the same, and he was grateful. Of all the things he wished he could change, Trish wasn't one of them. It was comforting to come back and fit back in with her like he always had.

* * *

Kwame had gently shaken Gi awake in the early hours of the morning, kissing her and telling her she should go back to her own bed. She had huskily agreed, and had staggered back into her own bedroom, collapsing onto her bed and wishing her parents weren't sleeping in the next room.

She glanced at him across the breakfast table. He was frowning slightly, in deep discussion with her father about something that had been on the morning news. She smiled to herself, pleased they were getting on so well.

"Gi! Come and help me with the coffee."

Gi sighed and wiped her mouth, gathering up the plates and cutlery and carrying them through into the kitchen, where her mother was standing by the counter.

"Get some fresh mugs, please?"

"I'm sure they don't care," Gi said, shrugging. "Just refill the ones we had earlier, at breakfast."

Her mother frowned and shook her head. Gi sighed again and reached up to fetch the mugs from the top shelf.

"You are putting weight on, Gi."

"I am?" Gi asked worriedly, twisting to look down at her backside. "How much?"

"Not much. But be careful. Once you start gaining it, it is difficult to lose again."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence," Gi muttered.

"Men like petite girls," her mother responded, patting her shoulder. "Watch what you eat."

Gi felt anger and frustration shoot through her. "For goodness sake," she hissed, "I'm not looking for a husband. Will you please stop? I'm happy with things the way they are."

"For now," her mother agreed. "It won't last, Gi. The older you get, the harder it will be."

"So I'm fat, old and uneducated," Gi snapped. "Poor little me."

"Don't speak to me like that," her mother answered sharply. "You _are_ educated, Gi. You're a very clever young woman. But you don't have a degree, or a boyfriend, and it is difficult to discuss your line of work when I don't know where you are half the time, or what you're doing."

Gi bit her tongue. She suddenly wanted to prove to her mother that she _was_ in a relationship, but bringing Kwame up in the middle of an argument didn't seem the right way to do it.

Gi's mother patted her shoulder gently. "You used to want to be a marine biologist," she said quietly. "Remember? All those books we bought you... All those tours around our offices. I thought you still wanted all of that."

Gi shrugged and leaned against the kitchen counter, keeping her voice soft in case Kwame was trying to overhear things. "Maybe," she said. "I still love to read those books. I still love to study marine biology in my own time. I'm just focused on other things right now. My friends, and my work. I'm really happy, Umma." She gave her mother a pleading look.

_Please be happy because I'm happy._

Her mother sighed and waved her hand. "Take the men the fresh coffee. I'll be through in a moment. And straighten your posture, Gi; you're walking slouched."

Gi gritted her teeth and snatched up the pot of coffee, doing her best not to snap a sharp response back at her mother. It was hard to walk straight when the weight of the world was loading itself up on your shoulders.

* * *

Linka smiled as the birds in her hand twittered and gently bumped and fought one another for the seed she held cupped in her palm. She watched them scrabble for it, feeling their little feet clench gently around her fingers, their beaks nudging against her skin. It tickled, and it was a pleasant feeling she associated with her childhood.

Mishka had left for work a couple of hours ago, before the day had properly broken into sunlight, and Linka and her grandmother had finished their breakfast quietly, chatting about the weather and the book her grandmother had decided to read next.

Linka gently shook the birds off her hand and closed the door of the cage, heading back towards the living room, where her grandmother was sitting.

"I fed the birds," Linka sighed. "Do you need anything?"

"Katja, go and check on Linka and Boris," her grandmother demanded, pointing towards the window. "I told them to stay in the yard. I don't want them going to find Mishka at school again."

Linka blinked and felt the blood drain from her face. "Grandma?"

Her grandmother peered out the window. "They had better not be playing near that old well."

Linka hurried into the kitchen and snatched up the phone. She was halfway through dialling the number for the central office at the mine when she replaced the receiver quietly.

_I can't call Mishka_, she thought desperately. _What good can he do? He warned me she does this. He can't do anything, even if he comes home._

She hovered in the kitchen, feeling anxious and sick. After a moment, she tiptoed back into the living room. "Grandma?"

"Did you put the kettle on?" her grandmother asked, looking up with a smile. "I feel like some tea."

Linka nodded, feeling relief creep back into her body. "Anything else?"

"No, my dear. I'm still full from breakfast." She gave a small laugh and patted her stomach. Linka gave her a shaky smile and disappeared back into the kitchen, fighting tears.

* * *

Ma-Ti stirred and slowly dragged himself from sleep. It was still early, but he could hear birds singing outside, and low voices floated through the air as people passed by outside.

He gave a sigh and rolled over, staring up at the ceiling of Shaman's hut. Suchi bounded in and sat on the end of Ma-Ti's bed, looking at him with bright eyes.

"Hello, little friend," Ma-Ti murmured, closing his eyes again. "Is it a nice day outside?"

Suchi leapt forward and landed on Ma-Ti's chest, causing him to cough and sit up.

"I've told you not to do that," the Heart Planeteer laughed, pushing the monkey away gently. "Okay, I'm up. Come on – it feels like breakfast time."

Shaman was sitting by the fire, watching the coals. He looked up when Ma-Ti walked in, rubbing his eyes.

"Did you sleep well, Ma-Ti?"

"Too well," Ma-Ti answered with a smile, sitting opposite him. "It was difficult to wake up."

Shaman chuckled and turned his attention back to the fire. His expression had become solemn.

"Are you all right, Shaman?" Ma-Ti asked.

Shaman sighed and looked up at the young man sitting opposite him. "There was some trouble last night," he said. "A fire broke out in the office of one of the executives for Planet Traffic."

Ma-Ti felt a twinge of worry and apprehension pass through him. "What happened?"

Shaman drew a heavy sigh and looked at Ma-Ti worriedly. "Ropni is nowhere to be found. They are blaming him for the incident. Unless he comes home soon, he is doing himself no favours. He looks guilty."

Ma-Ti put his head in his hands. "I cannot believe Ropni would resort to something like that," he said softly.

"Things have changed," Shaman sighed. "Not always for the better."

Ma-Ti rubbed his hands over his face. "I will go and find him," he said tiredly. "I know he is passionate about saving our way of life, but if he continues down this road, all he will do is hurt us."

Shaman nodded in quiet agreement, and Ma-Ti gave him a small smile.

"I'll fix it," he promised. "You have nothing to worry about."


	5. Chapter 5

Ma-Ti had a headache. He blamed it on the air-conditioning. Air-conditioners always seemed to make him light-headed and feel as though his skin stretched too tightly around him. He checked his watch and resisted the urge to sigh. He was being kept waiting on purpose, and while he usually had the patience of a saint, he was beginning to grow frustrated with the lack of response he had received so far.

He stood up and crossed the small foyer to the receptionist's desk again. She looked up at him apologetically, obviously as uncomfortable as he was with how the morning was progressing.

"I'm sorry," she said, interrupting him before he had a chance to speak. "I'm not sure what's keeping them so long."

He smiled tiredly. "I suppose it would have been easier if I had made an appointment."

She smiled back and shook her head. "The fire has caused trouble. They're all running around in there trying to fix the problems they didn't have yesterday. It's Saturday. Nobody should even be here."

The door to the nearest office open suddenly, and the receptionist jumped. "Mr. Borges, this is –"

"I know who it is," Borges replied tiredly, waving at Ma-Ti to come in. He gave him a tired smile. "I'm familiar with the Planeteers."

Ma-Ti smiled back and walked into the office, giving the receptionist a small wink as he passed, knowing she had been sitting there growing more and more anxious about how he was being kept waiting. _Don't worry about it, _he told her on his way past.

He grinned as she blushed bright red and the door closed behind him.

"Have a seat," Borges said, waving Ma-Ti towards an empty chair. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long. I've been on the phone with partners and employees and the police..." He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "What a nightmare." He turned back to Ma-Ti and the expression on his face was dark. "I don't suppose you'd like to turn him in, would you?"

"No," Ma-Ti answered immediately, his voice clear and firm. "I'm here to defend him. I'm afraid I cannot believe Ropni is responsible for the fire."

Borges snorted and shook his head. "I know he's your friend," he said, "but that kid has given us nothing but trouble. He broke into our office and stole files, he sent us threatening letters, and he set up loud protests outside our main office building..."

Ma-Ti could feel his headache growing worse. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I need you to look at him as innocent until proven guilty, and not the other way around."

Borges sank into his desk chair, finally ceasing his irritated pacing. "Look," he said frankly, "I admire the Planeteers. I've seen what you do; I've read articles and interviews and I've seen the news reports. And if you – any of you – took a look at our plans for the area, you'd see we mean it no harm. We want to establish a walking trail and two campsites. There'd be no bulldozers, no destruction... Everything would be kept as minimal-impact. Believe me, there are thousands of people who want to 'rough it' in the jungle and get as close to nature as they can without harming anything. Big corporations aren't all driven by money-grubbing evil geniuses, you know."

Ma-Ti smiled and gave a small laugh. "That comes as a relief, I must say."

Borges smiled back and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sorry it's your friend," he said. "The police are looking for him. I believe they intend to arrest him and charge him. He could have killed someone, you know."

"I know," Ma-Ti answered softly. "I will find him and tell him to come forward to clear his name. I am sure he's innocent."

Borges looked at Ma-Ti rather sympathetically. "I hope so," he said after a moment. "But I have to admit, it doesn't look good for him from where I'm standing."

* * *

Wheeler handed Trish a cardboard cup of coffee and stood behind her, narrowing his eyes at the colour-streaked canvas she'd just hung on the wall.

"What do you think?" she asked, watching him with bright eyes as she sipped at her beverage.

"What is it?" he asked, knowing she was waiting for him to admit his ignorance.

She laughed. "You tell me."

"No, seriously," he said, rolling his eyes, "what is it?"

"It's supposed to mean different things to different people," Trish said, nudging him affectionately on her way back to her desk. "How'd things go after I left last night?"

"Mom and I sat up and watched television. It was quiet. We talked for a bit." He shrugged and sat opposite her, leaning back to put his feet on her desk.

She raised her eyebrow at him and he quickly corrected himself, straightening up and putting his feet back on the floor.

"Does your dad feel better today?"

"I guess so. He was still in bed when I came down here."

Trish cupped her coffee in her palms and leaned back in her chair. "He talks about you a lot, you know. When you're not here."

Wheeler shifted uncomfortably. "Why?"

"Because he's proud of you," Trish said gently. "He's been trying really hard, Wheeler. He really has. It's hard for him to undo his mistakes."

"He threw up on the floor when we were singing Happy Birthday to Mom," Wheeler said, sounding exasperated.

"It cleaned up," Trish answered. "At least he was there, right? I could tell that meant a lot to her. Until the vomiting, anyway." She wrinkled her nose.

Wheeler checked his watch, creasing his brow slightly.

"Am I boring you?" Trish asked, grinning at him.

"No," he answered distractedly. "Just checking time zones. I haven't heard from any of the others."

"Do you want to use the phone and call someone?"

"Nah, it's okay. I'm going home tomorrow anyway. I'll see them then." He stretched, and noticed the way Trish was looking at him across the desk. "What?" he asked in surprise.

"Nothing." She shrugged and put her coffee aside, and then dropped the pretence. "Is it going to be another two years before I see you?"

He gazed back at her and sighed, shrugging slightly. "I don't know."

She looked upset. "You're not even going to keep me cheerful with a false promise?"

He chuckled and leaned towards her, resting his arms against the edge of her desk. "I'm useless at keeping in touch, aren't I?"

"Yes," she agreed, staring down at her coffee. "I'm not very good at it either, though."

"You're terrible," he agreed.

She grinned at him and took another sip of her coffee. "Will we both try a bit better?"

He held out his pinky and she hooked her finger around his with a smile.

"You should try and keep in touch with your mom, too," Trish said sternly. "_And_ your dad."

Wheeler winced and drained the last of his coffee. "I know."

"I mean it," Trish said. "Sometimes they see you on the news and your mom gets worried sick about you."

"The news sensationalises everything," Wheeler said scornfully, borrowing a phrase Gi was very fond of.

"It still wouldn't hurt to call now and then," Trish answered pointedly. "And you should be spending more time with them now – especially if you're going home tomorrow. We can hang out later."

Wheeler leaned over the desk and kissed her forehead. "Don't work too hard."

She followed him towards the door. "You _will_ come back later, right? I mean, you should spend more time with your parents, but I don't want you to spend _less_ time with me."

"I'll come back," he answered breezily. He stopped and doubled back, grabbing her around the waist to hold her still. "It looks like Brooklyn," he whispered into her ear, nodding towards the canvas on the wall.

She turned the painting and wrinkled her brow. "It does?"

"One big mess," Wheeler answered, pinching her slightly.

She elbowed him and he laughed and jumped away, grinning at her as he opened the gallery door and disappeared out into the sunshine.

* * *

Linka stirred and opened her eyes groggily to find Mishka smiling down at her.

"Oh," she sighed, rubbing her eyes and sitting up against her headboard. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. What time is it?"

"Not so late. Are you feeling all right?"

"I had a headache," Linka admitted, running a hand through her hair. "I only meant to lie down for a little while. I'll make you something to eat."

Mishka shook his head and smiled again, patting her knee gently. "I'll do it. Are you hungry?"

Linka nodded and sank back against her pillows. "How was work?"

Mishka wrinkled his nose. "Nobody likes working on a Saturday."

Linka smiled at him and rubbed her face, feeling groggy.

"How was Grandma today?" Mishka asked softly.

Linka avoided his eyes, but knew it was no use lying to him. She had never lied to Mishka – and despite the truth being hard to face up to, she didn't intend to start lying now.

"She kept telling me the same things, over and over," she admitted softly, looking down at her hands. "When I told her she'd already told me, she got angry. She thought I was being rude to her." She cleared her throat softly.

Mishka sighed and squeezed her hand. "She doesn't mean it, Linka. She gets frustrated with herself."

Linka bit her lip and looked at him. "We should take her to a doctor. Maybe there is a doctor in Novosibirsk or somewhere who could help us."

"There are no pills or medicines to stop her getting old," Mishka said gently.

Linka drew her knees up to her chest. Suddenly she was sure she should be crying, but she couldn't seem to summon the energy. She simply felt drained, and guilty, because she had spent the afternoon growing annoyed at her grandmother's repetitive stories and forgetfulness.

"I was short with her," she admitted after a moment. "She kept insisting it was Friday. She wouldn't believe me when I told her it was Saturday."

"I never work weekends when you aren't here," Mishka answered. "That probably confused her."

Linka sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I got so frustrated with her, Mishka. It was terrible. I feel awful about it."

Mishka patted her knee again. "Come on. Let's go and have dinner."

She smiled and followed him out of her bedroom, but her heart felt heavy and guilt and worry gnawed at her. She knew she had to leave the following day, and she knew that Mishka's concerns were completely justified. There _was_ something wrong – terribly wrong – with their grandmother. Linka couldn't quite put her finger on it. Her grandmother had beaten her at chess that morning, and had chuckled and gloated good-naturedly. They had laughed together.

But as the day had worn on, cracks started to show in the surface of normality. Linka was frequently referred to as Katja, and Boris' name had come up once or twice as though he could walk in the door at any moment. She had insisted that the framed embroidery above the mantelpiece had been completed by Linka's aunt instead of her mother, and she had repeated the news headlines to Linka several times, forgetting she had been sitting beside her, watching the same television channel.

Eventually, Linka had retired to her room with a headache, hating herself for not having more patience.

"Linka!"

Linka poked her head into the living room with a smile. "Are you all right, Grandma?"

"Where did you put my glasses?" her grandmother asked, digging around in the sofa cushions.

"I haven't touched them," Linka answered, automatically crossing to the mantelpiece. She had seen her grandmother put her reading glasses there that afternoon. "Have you checked here?"

"I always leave them on that table," her grandmother answered sharply, pointing towards the lamp table by her favourite armchair. She waved her hand towards the kitchen irritably, indicating anger towards Mishka. "He puts them places and expects me to read his mind. I wish he wouldn't shift them. I wish he'd leave my things alone." She sank into the chair.

Linka looked worriedly towards the kitchen, but Mishka hadn't appeared. She hoped he hadn't heard anything. "Here they are, Grandma," she said, fetching the glasses from the mantel. "There were on the mantelpiece."

Her grandmother clucked her tongue in annoyance and put her glasses down on the table beside her. "He's always shifting my things," she grumbled. "He can never remember where he puts them, either. He's always telling me he hasn't touched them. But _I_ never shift them. I always put them right there." She patted the top of the table and sighed.

"Well, they're found, now," Linka said comfortingly. "No harm done." She smiled and headed for the kitchen, her footsteps faltering only slightly as she heard her grandmother grumbling.

"You always take his side."

* * *

Kwame stood on the small balcony just outside the living room, listening to the argument carry on without him. He'd excused himself, not bothering to hide his discomfort. It was all in Korean, anyway – he had no hope of understanding it. Over the rooftops of other houses and through the foliage of trees and gardens, the ocean was growing inky-blue as the sun finally sank below the horizon. He set his eyes upon the darkening sky and listened to the anger seeping through the glass door behind him.

He had very little idea of what Gi and her mother were fighting about this time, though he couldn't blame the Water Planeteer for finally reacting the way she did. Even Kwame had started to feel irritable when the constant questioning about Gi's university dreams failed to cease.

Gi had finally erupted in the middle of dinner, snapping that she had no desire to go to university or to get married and have children – any of the things stated as worthy by her mother. Gi's father had quickly excused himself, and Kwame had followed soon after, retiring to the balcony alone.

The sun had disappeared completely by the time Gi slid the door back and slipped outside to join him. "Hi," she said miserably.

Kwame put his arm around her and she burrowed into him for a moment.

"Is it over?" he asked after a moment.

"No," she mumbled. "I can't make her understand that I'm perfectly happy with things the way they are."

He kissed the top of her head and hugged her closer, but she pulled away, sending a nervous glance into the living room.

"They'll see us."

"Does that matter?"

"Right now it does." She wiped tears away and gave him an apologetic look. "I can't. I'm sorry, Kwame. It's too hard. She won't understand."

He tried to fight the bitter disappointment rising up in him, but failed. At the risk of drawing her into yet another argument, he protested. "So we are still keeping secrets?"

"Please don't get mad," she said desperately, wiping her eyes on the backs of her hands. "It's just that on top of everything else –"

"I am sorry to be yet another inconvenience," he said angrily, unable to stop himself.

She flinched. "You're not..."

He rubbed his brow. "It seems as though I am," he said tiredly. "All this secrecy, Gi... I thought I understood, at first, but now I am not so sure. Why are we still hiding?"

"I don't know," she answered tearfully. "It was fun to have something like this between us. I don't want it to be a secret if it's going to cause problems, Kwame, but I can't tell Umma now... There's too much other stuff."

"Is it because I'm here?" he asked.

"No," she answered truthfully. "It gets like this every time I come home. We argue a lot. Why do you think I visit so little?" She gave him a small smile, but he couldn't smile back.

"So I am just something else you will argue about?" he asked. He couldn't stop the dark mood rising up in him. He felt angry and upset and uncomfortable. He knew it wasn't fair to take it out on Gi, but he was suddenly bitterly disappointed that she wasn't willing to stand up and declare her relationship with him. It wasn't something he had expected her to feel weak about.

"You don't understand what it's like with her," Gi said desperately, wringing her hands and sending another glance back into the house. "Nothing I do is good enough, Kwame. I don't want to tell her about you because it'll just be tainted with everything else we're arguing about."

He bit back an angry retort, but shot her a look that indicated he didn't like what he was hearing.

She chewed her lip and looked down at her feet. "I'm going to bed," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, okay?" She gave him a hopeful look. "There's still tomorrow. We don't have to leave until it gets dark. Maybe we can tell them tomorrow."

He rubbed his brow and nodded. She hesitated for a moment before she squeezed his hand gently and slipped inside, looking pale and tired.

* * *

Ropni was in hiding and Ma-Ti had very little idea of where to start looking for him. Instead, the Heart Planeteer simply returned to the village, feeling the heavy weight of accusation and guilt on his shoulders. He was beginning to think it _was _possible for Ropni to have started the fire. The evidence was certainly piling up against him. All Ma-Ti had was an opinion and belief that seemed incredibly aged and outdated. Ropni was no longer an innocent childhood friend. Ma-Ti was having trouble adjusting his memories to the new evidence he had been presented with.

Shaman was waiting for him. The village was dark, lit only with the soft glow of smoky fires and torches.

"Has he come home?" Ma-Ti asked hopefully, sinking down onto the stool opposite the man who had raised him.

"I am afraid not," Shaman answered gently. "Perhaps tomorrow."

Ma-Ti winced and rested his elbows on his knees.

"You looked tired, Ma-Ti."

Ma-Ti nodded in agreement. Cities and offices always made him tired – more so than all the travelling and jetlag and hard hands-on work he had to deal with as a Planeteer. Just looking at all that glass and concrete and development made him feel off-balance and unwell.

"Would you like something to eat?"

"In a moment," Ma-Ti answered with a smile, getting to his feet again. "I need to think for a while."

Shaman smiled and nodded understandingly.

Suchi was curled up at the end of Ma-Ti's bed. The Heart Planeteer chuckled and stretched out in his back, closing his eyes and breathing deeply before he raised his fist to his temple. "Heart," he whispered.

He had intended to search for Ropni, but he found himself automatically sending out inquiries regarding his friends.

It was very early in Russia, but he found Linka awake in her bed, worrying. He smiled to himself as she recognised his presence.

_Hello, Ma-Ti._

_Hello, Linka. How is your grandmother?_

He felt her hesitation and grief, and returned the feeling with one of sympathy.

_I am not sure there is anything I can do,_ she admitted. _How do you help someone keep hold of memories?_

He wasn't sure how to answer her. She and her family were facing a battle that seemed unfair and unstoppable and he wasn't sure how to offer her comfort.

She changed the subject first._ How is Shaman?_

_He is well,_ Ma-Ti answered with relief. _To be honest, I have not spent much time with him. There are others I need to find._

He knew Linka had suddenly sensed his own worry, and he cursed himself for adding to any stress she was feeling.

_I should go, Linka, _he said. _I just wanted to see how you were doing. I will see you tomorrow._

Ma-Ti sensed and saw her smile – relieved and genuine. _See you tomorrow,_ she agreed.

He went searching for Gi and Kwame next. It was later in Busan – they were both awake and up, finishing breakfast. To his surprise, Kwame barely acknowledged him, instead retreating into what Ma-Ti could feel to be a rather bad mood. He turned to Gi for help.

_It'll be okay,_ she told him. _We had a bit of an argument, but we'll be all right by the time we come home. How are things for you?_

_Complicated,_ Ma-Ti acknowledged. _Things are changing here. I will fill you in when I see you tomorrow. Wheeler and I will be back on Hope Island sometime in the afternoon._

_We'll see you then,_ Gi promised. _Take care, Ma-Ti._

Ma-Ti checked in on Wheeler and smiled, surprised as he realised the Fire Planeteer appeared to be having the least-stressful home visit of all of them. He was helping his mother prepare dinner.

_How are the others?_ Wheeler asked. _How's Linka's grandma?_

_Not very well,_ Ma-Ti acknowledged. He felt Wheeler's heart sink.

_Did your mother have a nice birthday?_ he asked, changing the subject.

_I think so,_ Wheeler answered. _Still ready to go home tomorrow?_

_Unless you would like to stay longer?_

_Nah. I miss you guys._

Ma-Ti grinned and agreed. _Small things seem more difficult when we are apart,_ he answered. _I'll see you tomorrow. _

Wheeler bid him a cheerful farewell, and Ma-Ti sighed and furrowed his brow in concentration as he finally set his mind towards Ropni. Talking to the other Planeteers cleared his headache away, and he managed to find his childhood friend with relative ease. He was camped in the jungle beside a small fire, stretched out and gazing up at the emerging stars.

Ma-Ti hung back, not really wanting to communicate directly. After a while he broke the connection completely, though the smell of smoke and the echo of Ropni's pride and smug satisfaction stuck to him. He rubbed his hands over his face, knowing for sure that the authorities were right. Ropni had started the fire.

Shaman entered quietly and sat beside Ma-Ti, waiting patiently for the young man to speak.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?" Ma-Ti asked softly, smiling up at him.

Shaman smiled back. "The good news, please."

"I believe Mr. Borges when he says he means no harm to us or the environment," Ma-Ti said. "He showed me his plans for the walking trail. He promises to leave only footprints behind – and not many of them. He hopes to highlight the fragile environment of the rainforest and to further protect it from development and clearing."

"That is good news," Shaman said, smiling. He waited patiently for the bad news. Ma-Ti suspected he already knew.

"Ropni started the fire," he said after a moment. "I need to find him tomorrow and urge him to turn himself in."

Shaman sighed gently and patted Ma-Ti's shoulder. "Do not take on Ropni's burdens, Ma-Ti," he said. "He has chosen an unfortunate path. He will only walk with us if he chooses."

"I think someone needs to remind him of his choices," Ma-Ti answered tiredly. "He seems to think two wrongs make a right."

Shaman chuckled and patted the top of Ma-Ti's head as he stood. "Come and have some food, Ma-Ti. I have missed you, and you will be leaving tomorrow."

Ma-Ti smiled at him and followed him back towards the centre of Shaman's hut, forcing his worries to the back of his mind. He couldn't help but remember he had arrived with very few worries. For the first time in a long time, his village was becoming the source of his troubles, instead of his refuge from them.

* * *

Wheeler yawned and grinned at his mother as she tipped a heap of scrambled eggs onto his plate. "Don't give me too much, Ma. I don't think I'd be much good as a fat Planeteer."

"There's not an ounce of fat on you," his mother replied immediately, tousling his hair. "Eat."

Wheeler glanced at his father, hidden behind the newspaper at the end of the table. A glass of juice was at his elbow. Wheeler wondered how much of it was juice and how much of it was vodka.

He cleared his throat softly. "Morning, Dad."

His father grunted and rustled the paper.

Wheeler glanced at his mother and she gave him a smile and a small shrug. She sat opposite her son with a plate of toast and scrambled eggs.

"What are you doing today?" she asked. "Seeing more of Trish? The two of you were out late last night."

Wheeler caught his father giving him a lewd grin around the corner of his newspaper.

"She took me up to the roof of her gallery," Wheeler explained hurriedly to his mother. "She's starting a little garden up there. We talked for a bit; that's all."

"You should keep in touch with her," his mother said sternly.

Wheeler held his hands up helplessly. "She's already given me this lecture, Ma."

"What time are you leaving?" she asked casually, dragging her fork back and forth through her eggs.

Wheeler watched her for a moment. "Lunch time."

She looked at the clock in dismay. "You can't go later?"

"You guys live in the wrong time zone," Wheeler said with a grin. "Sorry. Ma-Ti's picking me up. But I pinky-swore with Trish that I'd get better at keeping in touch, and I'm told that sort of thing is unbreakable."

His mother laughed and shook her head at him. "I'll believe it when I see it. You've never _once_ answered one of my letters."

"You wouldn't be able to read it if I did!" Wheeler answered defensively. He grinned as he referenced his life-long struggle with good penmanship. Linka complained about his 'scribble' constantly.

"Well, so long as you're careful," his mother sighed, still toying with her eggs. "What you do sounds so dangerous..."

"We look after one another," Wheeler promised her. He looked up as there was a knock on the door. His mother frowned and got up to answer it, leaving him alone with his father.

"Juice or screwdriver, Dad?" Wheeler asked, pointing to the drink sitting on the table by his father.

"Juice," his father muttered. "Your mother won't let me drink in the morning."

Wheeler grinned and turned his attention back to the mound of eggs on his plate. _Things here have really picked up. I can't believe it. Things really are better. He really does seem to be trying to clean himself up..._

"Hey-ho!" Trish sang, skipping into the kitchen and dropping a bag of donuts into the middle of the table. "I bring sugar."

Wheeler's father lowered his newspaper.

"First choice, Mr. Wheeler," Trish said, nudging the bag towards him. She swung herself into the seat beside Wheeler. "I came for breakfast," she told him.

"So I see." He grinned at her and she took his hand beneath the table, giving it a quick squeeze.

He wasn't sure if she really missed him that much or if she still thought he needed help and protection from what had been his old family environment. He selected a donut and looked at her.

He decided it didn't matter what her reasons were. He was coming to realise he missed her – a lot – and he was glad that she was reminding him exactly why.

* * *

Linka carefully folded another pair of jeans and placed them in her small suitcase. She glanced around her bedroom to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything.

Outside, it was dark, but it would be late afternoon when she arrived on Hope Island. She had put off leaving for as long as she could. Thankfully, Sunday had proven to be a good day for her grandmother. Mishka had been home and the three of them had sat together reading and talking and playing board games for much of the day. Linka felt a little stupid when she realised how much she had struggled with things the previous day.

"Ready?"

She looked up at Mishka as he leaned against the doorframe of her bedroom. She fought tears and nodded. "I think so. Are you sure I should go? I mean..."

"I know I urged you to come home," Mishka said with a small smile, "But you need to go back to Hope Island and be a Planeteer, Linka. Grandma and I will be all right. But it would not hurt for you to call us a little more often..."

"Every day," she promised valiantly.

He laughed and hugged her tightly. "I don't expect such commitment," he said. "Once a week is fine."

She kissed his cheek and squeezed him. "If you need more help –"

"I will let you know," Mishka promised. "Believe me, Linka, she will not accept it from anyone else."

Linka nodded meekly and gave him a small smile as he picked up her suitcase.

"Go and say goodnight," he said. "I will take your things out to the – the geo-cruiser."

Linka ducked into the living room. Her grandmother was packing away her reading glasses, preparing to go to bed.

"Grandma? I'm leaving now."

Her grandmother smiled and got to her feet, holding her arms open. Linka burrowed into her, feeling safe and loved. Again, she fought tears.

"I'm glad you came to visit, Linka," her grandmother whispered. "Things aren't the same without you here."

"I'm sorry I can't visit more often," Linka answered guiltily. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. All her life, her grandmother had offered strength and support. It felt unnatural for the roles to be reversed. Linka wasn't sure she had done a very good job of it over the past few days. She felt torn apart, and suddenly longed to be back on Hope Island with the other Planeteers, where she felt whole and normal.

"Take care," her grandmother ordered, patting her back. "Eat more. Read your books."

Linka laughed and nodded, clutching her grandmother tightly.

"Is something wrong, little one?"

"No," Linka croaked. She blinked furiously, forcing the tears back. "Don't forget me, Grandma."

Her grandmother laughed. "Linka, dear, you are never gone _that_ long. I will never forget you." She smiled and touched her granddaughter under the chin. "Take care of yourself."

"You too, Grandma." Linka hugged her again, tightly. Inside, she was wreck. Part of her already wanted to accuse her grandmother of already forgetting her – albeit briefly.

She shook her head and kissed her grandmother's cheek. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too," her grandmother said fondly. "Stay safe, Linka."

Linka nodded and smiled, finally tearing herself away and stepping out into the dark, heading for the geo-cruiser. Mishka was a shadow in the pearly moonlight.

"It will be all right," he said soothingly, seeing the distraught look on his little sister's face. "Take comfort, Linka, in that she suffers no pain."

"Just confusion," Linka croaked, still fiercely fighting her tears back. "It isn't fair, Mishka. This shouldn't be happening." She looked up at him helplessly.

He sighed and shrugged, pulling her in for another tight hug. "Life isn't fair," he said simply. "We merely have to make the best of it. I'll look after her."

"I know you will. I'm sorry you'll be alone."

He kissed the top of her head. "You won't get angry if I ask you back again?"

"I'll drop everything," she promised. "Just call me."

"I will."

She kissed his cheek and stepped back, bright-eyed but still successful in holding herself in control.

"Say hello to the others for me," Mishka said. "Especially Wheeler."

She shot him a look, and he laughed.

She smiled too. "I will."

He nodded, and watched her clamber inside the geo-cruiser and flip switches. She waved to him until he had long-since disappeared from sight and her tiny village had fallen away behind her.

She still didn't cry.

* * *

Gi was alternating between fury, anxiety and grief. When the fight with her mother had continued into Sunday, Gi remained reluctant to reveal her relationship with Kwame. This caused him to sink deeper and deeper into his bad mood, and by the time they were ready to pack their things, he was barely speaking to her.

A soft knock on her bedroom door caused her heart to lift. "Yes?" she called hopefully.

It was her father. He smiled gently at her. "Need any help packing?"

"I'm done," she answered, zipping her bag closed and sinking onto her bed. Her father sat beside her carefully and waited.

Gi smiled to herself and leaned her head against his shoulder. He never spoke much. She was much closer to him than she was with her mother – he seemed to understand her and accept the person she was, rather than mourn the person she failed to be.

"Not the best visit ever," Gi admitted after a moment.

He gave a soft laugh. "No. Don't worry. She'll calm down."

"After I'm gone," Gi said bitterly. "Why can't she ever be happy with me? Why do we fight so much when I come home?"

He squeezed her hand and sighed. "I'm not sure. But she loves you very much."

Gi bit her lip and matched his sigh. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"I'm dating Kwame," she whispered.

"I thought so. Good." Her father smiled at her.

Gi looked up at him. "Is it obvious? Does Umma know?"

"I don't think so. But he looks at you very lovingly."

Gi could feel herself growing red. "He does?"

Her father chuckled.

"I'm not sure how long that will last," Gi admitted after a moment. "He's mad at me."

"Why?"

"I had this grand plan of sitting you and Umma down and announcing it," Gi said, wrinkling her brow. "It's sort of been this big secret. I think he was looking forward to somebody knowing about it, and I wanted it to be revealed at the perfect moment. It never came."

"Perfect moments are very few," her father agreed.

"I just don't want it all tainted with what I'm _not_ doing and what I _should_ be doing. I know I wanted to go to university, but the dreams Umma remembers are dreams I had when I was fifteen. I'm twenty-two now, and things have changed. All I really want is to be a Planeteer."

"She's very proud of you," her father promised. "Go and say goodbye."

"Do you think I should tell her about Kwame?" Gi asked, looking up at him.

"Only if you're ready."

She rubbed her brow miserably and shook her head. "I don't think I am." She glanced through her bedroom door and set her eyes upon the closed door of Kwame's bedroom. "I don't want the exposure of our relationship to be done in the middle of an argument. I don't think he really understands that."

"I'm sure you'll both be okay," her father answered gently, getting to his feet. "I'll be downstairs."

Gi nodded and returned her attention to the door of the bedroom across the hall. Suddenly she wondered if coming home was a good idea after all. Maybe it had ended things with Kwame before they'd even had a chance to begin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes:** This chapter contains a sex scene.

* * *

Ma-Ti glanced worriedly up at the sun. He was already behind schedule and somehow Ropni was staying ahead of him, avoiding him easily. Ma-Ti's frustration was only providing a more detectable presence, and Ropni had been aware of him for some time now.

Ma-Ti knew he was close – probably within shouting distance; possibly close enough to be looking at him. He stopped and glanced up at the sun again as it rose higher and higher. He shot another quick apology towards Wheeler, who was surprisingly relaxed about having to spend a couple more hours with his family.

Finally, he sighed and peered through the foliage in front of him. The jungle was humid and quiet. "Ropni!" Ma-Ti shouted. "I only want to talk."

He waited a few minutes, listening and cautiously prompting his mind slowly towards Ropni's presence.

_Please._

Ropni finally appeared, though he kept his distance. He looked edgy, which added to Ma-Ti's worry.

"Why are you avoiding me?" the Heart Planeteer asked. "I'm leaving soon."

"I've hardly seen you anyway," Ropni said, frowning. "You never stay long enough to talk properly."

Ma-Ti sank to the ground and leaned his back against the trunk of a tree. "What do you want to talk about? You know how easy it is to contact me, my friend." He gave Ropni a warm smile, but didn't receive one in return.

Ropni sank to the ground a short distance away. "You don't understand what it's like here, Ma-Ti," he said seriously, a frown on his face. "Things are changing."

"I know," Ma-Ti responded patiently, "But you're dealing with things the wrong way. You could have killed someone the other night, Ropni. What's worse is that these people seem to love the forest as much as we do. Sometimes change isn't bad. Sometimes things like this are beneficial because it raises awareness of –"

"Stop it," Ropni said in disgust.

Ma-Ti flinched at the tone of his voice.

"You think you're still in touch with the problems we have here," Ropni said, folding his arms over his chest. "You visit us for a few days every year and think this place is still your home. But it's not."

"Of course it is!" Ma-Ti answered, getting angry despite his best efforts.

"I was born here and I'll die here," Ropni said, sounding angrier by the minute. "This village is all I'll ever have, Ma-Ti, and I'll give my life to defend it."

Ma-Ti ran his hand through his hair worriedly. "It won't come to that, Ropni. But you're in big trouble after setting that fire. Why did you –"

"Trouble?" Ropni asked scornfully.

"You burned a building down!" Ma-Ti responded, alarmed at the anger he heard in his own voice. "You can't do things like that. It just makes things worse."

Ropni muttered something Ma-Ti couldn't hear. Waves of anger and frustration were coming off him.

"I spoke to the men in charge of the walking trail," Ma-Ti said hesitantly. "I don't think there's anything for you to worry about, Ropni. I believe they'll take good care of things."

Ropni scoffed and shook his head. "Your father is probably rolling around in his grave, Ma-Ti."

Ma-Ti felt a hot spike of hatred, which was forced back by his own fear of it. He swallowed carefully. "My father," he said, his voice shaking, "fought for peace and cooperation between peoples."

"Well, look where it got him," Ropni snapped. "These people don't care, Ma-Ti. If we give in even a little bit they'll take _everything_ from us. This is just the first step. If you had stayed here you'd know what I mean. We've already lost so much."

Ma-Ti suddenly realised how ill he felt. He rubbed his stomach and took another look up at the sun, now at its highest point. He was supposed to be meeting Wheeler.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, thinking hard and trying to ignore the waves of ill-feeling coming through from Ropni.

"You're going to leave," Ropni accused, "and forget about all of us. Don't you realise I'm on the brink of losing _everything_, Ma-Ti? There is nothing for me outside of our village. If I lose it, I am lost too."

"Violence and vandalism will not solve your problem!" Ma-Ti cried, desperately wanting his friend to understand. "There are people willing to put you in prison for what you did the other night. If they find you, they –"

"Prison," Ropni scoffed. "It is not _me_ who belongs there."

"Yes it is," Ma-Ti said in a hard voice, getting to his feet. "What you've done is wrong. You may not agree with what these other men are planning to do, but it is within their rights and they intend to do things right by us, as well. Shaman trusts them and so do I." His voice wavered again and suddenly he felt close to tears. "I no longer trust you."

Ropni avoided his eyes, looking sullen. "You don't know me any more. You left. I've been fighting for this village alone."

Ma-Ti rubbed a tear away before it had a chance to fall. "Only because nobody else in the village thinks it right to use violence and hatred to protect things. If you spoke to anyone else, you would see that there have been talks and discussions going on for months. Everyone has fought hard to do what is best for the forest. You only fight alone because you fight the wrong way, Ropni." He glanced up at the sun again and gave a sigh. "I have to go," he said. "Please, please turn yourself in. I know things will be better for you if you do."

Ropni looked sullen again and shrugged. "Just go, Ma-Ti. I knew you weren't staying. Go, and leave us with our problems."

Ma-Ti wanted to stay and argue how unfair this was, but he caught a feeling of anxiousness from Wheeler that forced him on.

_You okay, little buddy?_

He dashed another tear away. _I am leaving now, Wheeler. I will see you soon._

He wanted to say something else to Ropni, but his childhood friend had already turned his back and was walking away through the trees. He was soon gone into the green foliage, and Ma-Ti felt his loss like a physical blow to his chest.

* * *

Wheeler whistled to himself, glancing up at the sky now and then, knowing Ma-Ti was only a few minutes away. He was sitting against the ledge that ran around the rooftop. Trish was fidgeting and pacing nearby, scuffing her sneakers against the concrete.

"You okay?" Wheeler asked, sure the question was going to prompt another round of anxious demands that he keep in touch.

"Why can't you visit more often?" Trish asked, sounding surprisingly hard.

"I promise I'll be better at keeping in touch," he said again.

"No," she said, frowning, "it's not just phone calls or letters. You're in America a lot – and from what I understand, Hope Island isn't even all that far away from here. But you never visit."

"How do you know where Hope Island is?" Wheeler asked with a grin, raising his eyebrow.

"It's not funny," Trish said desperately. "I _miss _you, you know? When we were kids all we ever talked about was getting out of here, and you _did_, but you left me behind!" She burst into tears and Wheeler hastily scrambled upright in alarm.

"Trish..." He trailed off, not sure how to comfort her. "I mean... You're doing okay, aren't you? You've got your own _gallery._" He grinned at her.

"But I'm still here," she wailed. "Without you."

Wheeler had only seen Trish cry a handful of times – the last of which had occurred when they were eleven. Seeing her in tears sent fear and guilt through him.

"It's not easy," he said, pleading for her to understand. "I know I seem to be in America a lot, Trish, but all that time I'm running around trying to stop some sort of disaster from happening. And as soon as we're done taking care of that one, we have to go to another one. It's really rare that I get any time off at all..." He trailed off again, feeling as though his excuse sounded weak.

She nodded and rubbed her cheeks with the heels of her hands. "I know."

He gave a shaky smile of relief as she forced her tears under control. "It's not like it's easy to leave you," he said. "I really miss you."

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth quirked upwards. "Please," she croaked. "You never even think of me."

"Not true," he said, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

She sighed and put her arms around his neck and her cheek against his chest. "I think about you all the time," she mumbled. "Nobody knows me like you do. Nobody tries."

"Well, you're hangin' out with the wrong people," he said with a grin, kissing the top of her head. In the distance he could hear the throb of the eco-copter approaching.

Trish heard it too, and she drew in a shaky sigh and kissed the side of his neck. "I'm gonna go," she said, "Before your friend gets here." She gave him an embarrassed smile. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"Never will be," he answered cheerfully, giving her a grin.

She smiled back and hugged him tightly, kissing him gently on the mouth before she let him go and headed for the door to the stairs. "Love you," she called. "Don't forget to write, occasionally."

He motioned a cross over his heart and grinned. "I'll see you soon," he promised. "Get some art I can understand, okay?"

She laughed and waved to him, disappearing inside just as Ma-Ti touched the eco-copter down on the top of the building.

Wheeler ducked his head and ran in, throwing his bag towards the back and grinning at Ma-Ti. "Hey little guy," he greeted.

Ma-Ti smiled. He had hit a growth spurt at fourteen that had added several impressive inches to his height, but he was still quite slender and he still only reached Wheeler's chin. He wouldn't mind the nickname no matter how tall he was.

Wheeler glimpsed his face and his smile collapsed. "What's wrong?"

Ma-Ti stammered for a moment, intent on telling him it was nothing, but his emotions were always too close to the surface to feign anything. "I lost a friend," he said eventually. "Things between us have changed and I do not think they will go back." He turned back to the controls as Wheeler sank into the seat beside him.

"Are you okay?" Wheeler asked. "I've been comforting people all day, so go ahead and let loose."

Ma-Ti laughed and shook his head. "I'll be all right. I just want to get home."

"Have you heard from the others?" Wheeler asked, running his hand through his hair and glancing at his watch.

"I spoke with them yesterday," Ma-Ti confirmed. "I think we will all be relieved to get home."

Wheeler frowned and settled back in his seat. "Man," he sighed, "suddenly I feel guilty for having a pretty good visit."

Ma-Ti laughed. "Don't be ridiculous," he said. "How are your parents? Did your mother have a nice birthday?"

"I think so," Wheeler answered happily. "Things actually seem to be pretty good at home. Dad's health isn't great, but he's really trying to stop drinking..." He sighed and shrugged. "His attitude seems better, anyway."

"Good," Ma-Ti answered with a smile. He touched his own father's necklace around his neck. As soon as he had grown big enough for it to fit him, he had started wearing it.

Wheeler watched him. "Ma-Ti, what's up?" he asked. "Shaman's okay, isn't he?"

"Shaman is fine," Ma-Ti answered with a smile. He was always surprised with Wheeler's ability to read people. He supposed it had something to do with Wheeler keeping his own emotions so close to the surface. It was easy for him to recognise signs of stress or anger or unhappiness.

_In most people, anyway._

Ma-Ti shifted in his seat, still feeling uncomfortable after his final conversation with Ropni. "This friend of mine," he said slowly, "We grew up together. He feels as though I abandoned him. He feels alone and that things are out of his control..." He bit his lip and gripped his slender fingers around the control stick. "He said some things about my father which –"

"What?" Wheeler asked immediately, his eyes fiery. "What did he say? Do you want us to go back there and –"

Ma-Ti laughed. "No, Wheeler. I am all right." He touched the necklace again. "I have never heard a bad word about my father," he said after a moment.

"Well from what I've heard, your father doesn't deserve it," Wheeler muttered, looking angry. He slumped in his seat.

Ma-Ti smiled. "You have only heard stories about him from _me._ I am sure my views of him are biased."

Wheeler clapped a hand onto his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, little guy. I'm sure your dad is proud of you."

Ma-Ti gave him a small smile and turned his attention to the horizon, grateful for Wheeler's somewhat-abrasive cheerfulness and comfort.

* * *

Linka had managed to keep her tears under control until the moment she landed on Hope Island. She could see the eco-copter grounded a short distance away and knew the others had returned, but couldn't summon the energy to find them.

She slumped in her seat and started to sob, the pain of grief in her chest suddenly too much to ignore any further. She was so busy sobbing and moaning into her hands she didn't notice Wheeler approaching the geo-cruiser with bags under his arms.

"Hey babe," he called cheerfully, throwing the bags into the back of the cruiser. "No rest for the wicked; Gaia said there's some mudslide or something..." He trailed off and looked at her in horror. "What happened?"

"Nothing," she croaked, wiping her eyes furiously. She opened her mouth to further convince him she was all right and choked instead, wailing into her palms again.

Wheeler looked over his shoulder in horror and saw Ma-Ti emerge from the forest with his own overnight bag in his hand. He glanced at the situation and nodded towards Linka. Wheeler stared back at him in terror until Ma-Ti rolled his eyes and motioned a hugging gesture with his arms.

"Oh," Wheeler blurted, snapping out of his fear-induced paralysis and stumbling towards Linka. He sank to his knees beside her and awkwardly unbuckled her seatbelt. "Need a hug?" he asked, giving her a small smile.

Expecting some sort of muffled, hiccupped denial, he was surprised and worried when she huddled down onto the floor and leaned against him.

"I've been comforting people all day," he said confidently for the second time that afternoon. "I've got it down, now. What's wrong?"

"Shut up, Wheeler," she croaked, burying her face in his neck.

He grinned and hugged her, accepting the fact she didn't want to talk.

She shuddered, trying to get her breathing back under control. "I am so tired," she whispered after a moment, giving in completely and resting her cheek against his shoulder. "I cannot sleep..."

Wheeler patted her on the back. "I was gonna call and see if you were okay," he said after a moment. "I didn't want to interrupt anything."

"She is not well," Linka moaned, closing her eyes and pressing her face into the side of his neck. "She kept forgetting my name..."

Wheeler squeezed her gently. "Maybe there's a doctor or someone who can do something," he said hopefully.

"_Nyet_," Linka sobbed, "nobody can help. It is unstoppable. It is irreversible. It will only get worse and there is nothing I can do about it."

"I'm sorry, babe," he whispered.

She nodded and shifted slightly, her body twisted uncomfortably to reach around him. He tugged her forwards until she was utterly nestled against him.

"It is not fair," she mumbled, closing her eyes. "We have stopped oil spills and nuclear explosions and _wars_, but I cannot stop this. I have never felt so useless."

Wheeler didn't know how to comfort her. There was no use in saying "_It'll be okay."_ Because it wasn't going to be okay – not for her, not for her grandmother. He shifted beneath her and squeezed her again. "We're here for you, Linka," he said after a moment. He felt intensely uncomfortable about being her pillar of strength at that moment. The task seemed too huge and daunting and he was sure Gi or someone – _anyone_ else – would be able to offer better words of comfort.

She wiped her eyes and sighed, slumping against him tiredly. "I just need to sleep."

He patted her between the shoulder blades. "It'll have to be in transit," he said with a rueful grin. "Mudslides."

She wrinkled her nose and looked up at him. "Do we have to?"

He chuckled and bumped his forehead against hers. "Yup. Come on – head in and take a quick shower. You'll feel better. And all this physical labour coming up is bound to knock you into a sound sleep later." He grinned and she gave him a shaky smile before she kissed his cheek gently.

"I suppose so," she breathed. "The world keeps turning."

He ruffled her hair and she pushed him away, the smile on her face looking a little brighter.

* * *

Kwame had acted pleasant enough as they were both saying goodbye to Gi's parents. He had smiled and grasped their hands and laughed with them. They had urged him to come again.

Gi glanced at him from where she was sitting in the eco-sub. She had decided to act against his anger and disappointment with a serve of fury of her own, and had settled herself icily in a seat at the back, well away from him. Now she was regretting it.

The clouds above the ocean had been dark and dull as they were leaving. They weren't cruising very deep, but the light was still dim and shadowy as they jetted forward in the eco-sub. She could still tell, even in the poor light, that he was angry. His shoulders were set and tense.

She turned back to the window, feeling the uncomfortable prickle of unwanted tears. She rubbed her nose and curled into her seat, staring out into the murky water.

Kwame felt stiff and tired and uncomfortable. He couldn't help but feel as though Gi was too ashamed of being in a relationship with him to tell anyone. It had hurt, having her knock back every attempt to reveal their pairing, and he had retreated into anger.

He was thinking about how long he'd be able to stay angry at her when he felt her hand on his shoulder. He jumped, and glanced up at her. She wound her arms around him and rested her forehead against his shoulder, standing bent over beside his seat.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He sighed and let the eco-sub drift to a halt and surface. The waves rolled against them, lifting and dropping the vessel slowly. "Me too," he answered, tilting his head and resting his cheek against her.

"Please don't be mad," she said tearfully, pulling away so she could see him. "I wanted to tell them – I really did." She gave him a wobbly smile. "I told my dad."

Kwame turned sideways in his seat and took her hands. "You did?"

She nodded. "He was pleased."

Kwame gave a small laugh and tugged at her hands so she stood closer to him. "I thought you were ashamed of me," he said after a moment.

"Of course I'm not!" she cried, looking horrified. "I just didn't want to tack you onto the end of an argument. I wanted it to be perfect and I guess I spent too much time looking for the moment instead of just focusing on how important _you_ are." She looked down at him sadly. "I'm really sorry," she whispered again.

He rose up out of his seat and kissed her gently. "Forget it."

"I'm not ashamed of you," she said softly. Tears spilled down her cheeks. "God, Kwame, it's..." She ducked her head and tried to catch her breath.

He brushed her cheek with his thumb. "You have never been quiet about your other relationships," he said after a moment. "Why is it different with me?"

"Because you _matter_," she sobbed, looking up at him. "Nobody else has ever meant so much to me." She stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders.

The eco-sub rolled over a wave and Kwame stumbled to keep his balance, one hand flat against the small of Gi's back and the other grabbing for purchase on a nearby seat. He missed and they both fell, landing heavily on the floor as another wave spun them around.

Gi rubbed the back of her head and clenched her fist into Kwame's shirt, sliding her legs around him as he shifted on top of her.

"Are you hurt?" he breathed.

She kissed him, holding him to her and revelling in the way the ocean seemed to be swelling up from beneath her, urging her towards him. She felt his hand skate up beneath her t-shirt and nestle in the dip of her waist, his long fingers sliding over her ribs.

"Don't tickle me," she breathed, squirming slightly and tugging at his shirt.

He grinned, but obeyed, kissing her again, the memory of their argument and angry separation still throbbing in his temples and encouraging him to revel in new closeness. She ran her hands over his back and pulled him nearer, her fingers slipping between their bodies to work at the fastening of his jeans.

"I missed you," he breathed, shifting his hips so she could tug the fabric away.

"I didn't sleep last night," she answered, lifting her hips against his hands. "I thought you hated me."

He flicked his tongue over the hollow behind her ear and felt her jolt beneath him, a soft panting sound coming from her mouth as she wriggled beneath him, shedding clothing.

"Of course I do not hate you," he whispered, his lips pressing against the tear-streaked swell of her cheek. She shifted and opened her mouth to his, closing her eyes and drawing in a deep breath through her nose as she felt the bare heat of him against the soft line of her thigh.

His hand rose high along the smooth curve of her body, her t-shirt lifting and bunching above the white cups of her bra. He tugged it down and ran his palms over her breasts, his teeth grazing the point of her jaw as he propped himself over her on his elbows, his knees sliding against the thin, slippery carpet on the floor. She held his shoulders and used her legs to guide him forward and then move against him, her mouth dropping open and her back arching as their bodies joined.

For a moment her hand fell back and scrabbled desperately to clench into pillows or bed sheets, only to find the smooth, bare floor. She wrapped her arms around Kwame instead, pulling him closer, moving against him and with the ocean swells that rolled the eco-sub up and down. Her heels slid and stuttered over the floor as she thrust up to meet his body; her fingers dragged over his skin and dug into the flesh of his hips; her breath hitched and burned in her lungs as she forced away the need to breathe in favour of the warm slide of his tongue in her mouth.

Kwame could feel the muscles in his arms burn and throb as he held himself above her, his body bent to fit hers. He pressed his forehead against the warm curve of her neck and opened his eyes to watch the roll of her throat as she breathed and swallowed, her breath loud and deep. He felt the low vibration of each syllable that grew from the centre of her chest and he felt the quick rise and fall of her breast against his hand as she breathed his name into his ear.

He closed his eyes when he came, moments after her body had tightened and squirmed beneath him, her body going rigid for long seconds as she curled up around him. He slowly let himself sink into her, his body a heavy weight on top of her. He felt her smile against the side of his neck and she tightened her hold on him as they fought for breath.

"We should fight more often," she murmured, nuzzling her nose against him.

He gave a tired laugh and rolled away from her, closing his eyes as the eco-sub drifted and lazed upon the waves.

Gi sat up and ran her hand through her hair. "I want to swim," she said. "I'll be back in a moment."

"Now?" Kwame asked drowsily, propping himself up on his elbows. "We should get back. We are already late."

"Five minutes," she promised, kissing him softly. "Just to freshen up." She grinned at him and he smiled back, staggering upright and righting his clothing as she slipped outside and neatly dove into the blue water.

She swam down, her eyes closed, letting the ocean wash away the stress and tiredness and guilt that had built up over the past few days. By the time she hauled herself on board again, she felt like her old self.

She pulled her shorts back on and used her t-shirt to dry her hair. She smiled at Kwame as she took the seat next to him, and he reached over and tucked a salt-roughened lock of hair behind her ear.

"Better?" he asked.

"We're all better," she answered, leaning over to kiss him. "Let's go home."

"Yes," Kwame sighed, giving her a smile and submerging the eco-sub again. "I am sure there is work to do. Let us hope everyone has had a restful few days."

"It won't be fair if they haven't," Gi answered, pulling her wet t-shirt over her skin. "Taking time off only to feel more exhausted at the end of it doesn't seem very fair."

Kwame glanced at her and smiled. "It depends what caused the exhaustion," he said.

She laughed and gave him a friendly shove, leaning back into her seat with a pleased grin. Neither of them mentioned the possibility of revealing their relationship. The right time would simply present itself. They could only hope it would come sooner rather than later.

* * *

Wheeler grinned as Gi did a little skip towards him and gave him a hug.

"How was Brooklyn?" she asked. "Get me any souvenirs?"

"Did you get _me_ any souvenirs?" he asked.

"No."

He tickled her and pushed her away lightly to help Kwame with the bags. "We may as well throw these into the geo-cruiser," he said. "We're off to help out at some mudslides."

Gi's face fell. "Already?"

"Yeah." Wheeler looked over his shoulder at her. "Go and wake Linka, will you? She's asleep on the couch in the common room."

Gi frowned. "Is she all right?"

Wheeler shook his head and shrugged. "Her grandma's not so good."

Gi bit her lip and hurried away without a backwards glance.

Wheeler grinned at Kwame as they walked towards the geo-cruiser. "How was Busan? Did you find out any dirty secrets about Gi from her parents?"

"No," Kwame answered with a smile. He thought for a moment. "She talks her in her sleep."

Wheeler shrugged and grinned again. "I already knew that."

Kwame laughed. They had all fallen asleep on missions or around each other at some point. Gi's ability to hold conversations in her sleep hadn't been a secret for long.

Wheeler threw the bags on top of the small pile in the back of the geo-cruiser. "Did the past couple of days feel weird to you?" he asked after a moment, leaning against one of the wings of the aircraft.

Kwame nodded. "A little. Things felt different."

"Yeah." Wheeler scratched the back of his neck. "I sort of forget about the world I left behind, sometimes."

Kwame tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

Wheeler shrugged and fidgeted. "Do you ever think about your village back home?"

"No," Kwame said after a moment, "but there is nothing there for me. There is nothing much to miss."

"I guess I got trapped and thought like that myself," Wheeler admitted. "I forgot I left some good things behind as well. Like my friends..." He trailed off and shrugged. "Doesn't matter," he said, mentally shoving away the uncomfortable prickles on his skin. "Time to get back to work. That'll make us feel normal, right?"

Kwame gave a short laugh and shook his head at his friend. "I hope so."


End file.
